Beyond The Scarlet Moon
by AliceCullen117
Summary: I hated him. I hated all his secrets, each and every one of them. My name is Harley Tinker, and I was not expecting this.
1. Chapter One

"Harley! Check this out, it's happened again!" Rachel bumped past Michael, standing beside me at our lockers, to shove a thick newspaper in my face.

Sighing to took the paper from her hands turning to the front page, to discover a photo of pure carnage. Furry limbs doused in shades of crimson, innards torn all across the yard in the photo, the only thing I could fully make out as whole was the head of the mutilated animal.

Michael made a sickened noise in the back of his throat, "Jesus Rach, not something you want to see first thing in the morning."

My nose wrinkled as I shoved the paper into her chest. "That's the seventh dog this month!" Rachel cried, drawing the eyes of passer-by's. "Mrs. Turner's daughter found it in the ditch – she's only ten!"

Michael rolled his big auburn eyes making a goofy face as he was sticking his tongue out; I tried not to laugh as Rachel ranted on.

"Would you relax, nobody liked that mutt anyways, if you ask me that thing did us a favour." The grey locker squeaked in objection as Michael slammed it shut.

I snickered. "Yeah, it's no big deal Rach, they'll catch it sooner or later."

Rachel pushed her round glasses up her nose, stabbing a slender finger at me, about to make another declaration when Stalon interrupted.

"Catch what?" His voice was deep and quiet, my face reddening as he smiled at me.

The same crooked grin I saw everyday, yet it still took my breath away. Stalon's eyes, one of blue the other a caramel brown gleamed as he ran his long fingers through lengthy white hair, his brown roots showing faintly.

"That puppy-eating monster!" Rachel shouted at him as if he should already know all this. Stalon's eyes widened a moment, before a prominent Adam's apple bounced up from beneath the collar of his rugby jacket.

"It got another one, hmm." His already quiet voice lowered to barely a whisper, the three of us straining to hear him correctly. "That's a shame."

His lovely eyes seemed to darken; the beautiful oceanic sapphire of his right eye appeared to thrash deep within. Like the angry waves of the sea smashing up against the jagged black rocks of his pupils.

While the sweet candy brown of his left eye hardened completely, the usually cordial melted caramel concealed wholly. It was a frightening spectacle to watch.

Stalon's warm skin bled of all it's peachy colour to welcome an emotionless, ashen white. He seemed to detach from us, from me entirely, like he'd drifted off to an island all his own.

Michael gave him a hard pat on the shoulder. To which Stalon replied to with a shake of his head. "C'mon Rach, you know he's got a weakness for cute things." Michael winked at me.

Rachel snorted, clutching her newspaper to her chest as she spun on her heels and tromped off, her braids bouncing across her shoulders. Michael sighed and followed after his sister, "See you guys in science."

Reaching out I squeezed Stalon's forearm, my fingers slipping on the slick blue leather of his jacket. "You okay? I know it's not the prettiest sight first thing." I shrugged, tucking choppy clumps of magenta hair behind my ear.

"I think I'll live," Stalon smirked. "Lets go." My cheeks flushed faintly as his arm fell around my shoulders.

We were going to be late anyway. Science was in the south wing and, unfortunately my locker was in the north. I didn't mind being late, Ms. Stewart was never one of my favourite teachers anyway.

The halls were flooded with gossip this morning, until the bell had gone. Rumours floated about Rebecca hooking up with Austin at Michele's party on the weekend. How Ms. Anderson had gone on maternity leave again, there was also discussion about "The Thing," as many were calling it now.

Dad had told me it was probably just a hungry coyote or a bear that had come into town for food. After all, I suppose it wouldn't be the first time, Rachel and Michael lost two sheep because of a coyote issue on their farm last month.

Police were searching for it now; it's become something of a game. Hunting restrictions had been lifted because it mauled one of the men tracking it one night; it was all over TV…I'd never seen so much blood in my life.

Men in the neighbourhood, even some of the guys in school were going after it, leaving bait at night and confining areas around town to try and catch it.

There was one claim, that an officer had shot it, 'right through the thing's shoulder and it just kept on runnin' like nothin' ever happened,' he had said on the news.

I knew whatever it was, a bear or a coyote; I didn't want it to be killed. If it was ever found couldn't they just bring it in and have it put down?

Stalon's arm stiffened around me, his gorgeous eyes carrying with them a curious glint. "Why so quiet?" He asked finally, I only shook my head, "I just feel sorry for it. I mean, it must be like the whole world is after it."

Stalon chuckled, tilting his head back slightly. "You would be so concerned wouldn't you Tink? They won't catch it, don't worry."

I made a face up at him, "How can you be so sure?"

He only grinned, "The common coyote weighs up to about 20 pounds, usually has tan or greyish coats with black tipped tails. They howl, yes, or give out a series of shrill yips, but this creature you're so worried for, has a thicker, more golden brindle hide and is very much larger."

I laughed, gazing up at him peculiarly. "How do you even know all that?"

Stalon rolled his eyes. "Some jocks can read." His voice had become one of mock outrage; I couldn't help but crack a small smile.

I wanted to ask him, I really did, it was just that I hated hearing the same pointless answer, it was always so frustrating. But then again, what do I have to lose?

"Um." I began, Stalon's wide eyes set on mine, awaiting what it was I had to say. "Dad's working late, if you wanted to come over tonight, I'd just have to watch the twins."

Stalon sighed, his arm slipping from me to pinch the bridge of his nose. I worked my hardest as no to allow the disappointment to show on my face.

"I can't" He said, as I predicted. Stalon's eyes apologetic as always and I bit back the need to smack the look right off his face.

Clenching my teeth together I stretched my strides out to surpass his own, my short hair bouncing on my cheeks. It didn't bother me that he always said no, it was that he never told me why.

"Don't be angry with me Harley, I want to." Stalon said, hastening his steps to fall in line with me again. "I just…I can't tonight. How 'bout tomorrow."

"Why?" I demanded, jerking my arm free of his grasp. Stalon's brow wrinkled, his beautiful eyes alive with guilt.

"I've just got so much to do." We said together, my eyes narrowed on him vehemently.

I snorted, laughing humourlessly, "You could at least come up with a good excuse Stalon, what is it that you have to do? _Read_?"

His big hand fit around my arm smoothly, my purple mesh sleeve chafing on my skin under his hard grip. I gasped, the locker my back met with squealed lowly at the abrupt pressure.

"Don't do this to me Tink; I swear I'll make it up to you." Stalon's hair tickled my temples, his forehead pressed against mine. My nose wrinkled in annoyance, I hated how he could make me crack so easily.

"Tomorrow?" I stated firmly, Stalon smiled softly as he nodded. "You promise?"

"I promise." He replied with certainty. I stared, long and hard into his eyes, seeking the teeniest hint that he was being dishonest. "Now come on, we're really late."


	2. Chapter Two

"I'm serious Harley, Mrs. Stewart's out to get me!" Rachel moaned, digging in my makeup bag for mascara.

I'm forever jealous of Rachel, she always looked so great. Like today, with her knee-high boots and black ballerina skirt. She was the only girl I knew who could rock an _AlexisOnFire _t-shirt, with lime green nail polish and make it look good.

Rachel has this perfect, flowing brown hair too, I'd known her all my life and never ever seen her with short hair.

She almost always had these crazy extensions in, orange ones yesterday green ones to match her nails today. She'd always wanted to be a hairdresser.

Her unbelievably thick bangs made her look like a four-year-old, but she made that work to her advantage too. Padding on bright pink blush in flawless circles on her cheeks, painting her plump lips this wild red. She looked like a Flapper from the twenties, except for her big round glasses – they always reminded me of Simon the chipmunk.

I loved the way she decorated her big, doll-like auburn eyes in glitter or in some outrageous neon colour. Not to mention the glamorous diamond nose ring she had, Rachel was pretty easy to spot in a crowd.

It was hard to picture her on a farm, mucking out some horse's stall. Rachel's a real tomboy at heart, she never bullshit you about anything. She's this huge animal rights activist, after all, she got me into vegetarianism.

Then there was me.

I've never had long hair, mainly because I was always cutting mine. I haven't been to a hairdresser either, ever since I figured out how to dye my own hair and chop it up as much as I wanted anyways. It was a cross between pink and purple now, with enough layers to match a pixie's.

I wasn't really big on fashion trends – I hate looking like everyone else. I suppose that's why my closet's full of mesh and destroyed jeans and, a butt load of black. Or at least, that's what my Father has come to believe.

My face was oval and my features were a lot more 'classic,' as my auntie Beatrice would put it. Unlike Rachel who had this chubby, girlish round face and looked absolutely adorable.

I have the same foggy jade eyes as my Mom – which sometimes makes Dad upset. I thought they were gorgeous, not just because they reminded me of Mom, but if I wore a lot of eyeliner like I was today, Rachel said I looked like Amy Lee from _Evanescence_.

Which I know is totally untrue, but it's still nice to hear.

As for piercings, I wasn't a huge fan of them either and it wasn't just the fact that I had a low tolerance for pain or anything, needles just freaked me out. Rachel was the one, along with the help of a bottle or two of _Bud Light_, that got me to get my tongue pierced.

"Well duhh, she hates everything." I muttered hoisting myself up on to the bathroom counter. Rachel pursed her lips, lathering on a second layer of crimson lip gloss.

She paused a moment, peering over at me from the corner of her eye. Heaving a sigh she twisted the silver cap back on to the small tube and let it fall with a noisy clatter into the small brown bag.

Her search for the next utensil came loudly in our tense silence, before Rachel gave me a once-over. "Okay, what's got your panties in a bunch?"

I smiled faintly at her terminology, raking black nails through my hair. "Stalon." I didn't need to go further for her to put two and two together, Rachel scoffing. "He's just so great and then such a dick."

"Harls, how many times do we have to go over this?" Rachel rested her fists on her hips as she glowered at me. "You guys have been dating for what? Like, two months?"

"Eight." I laughed, Rachel rolling her eyes dramatically.

"Beside the point. Why do you bother if he bugs you so much, you know the rule: don't get pinned down." And she went right back to her makeup with that, extracting the long stick of charcoal eyeliner I bought last week from the bag.

"Pinned down," I repeated my eye brows arching. "Do you know how sluttish that sounds?"

Rachel only lifted her eyelid to colour the inner line. "Don't make me laugh." Gradually, she began to tautly pucker her lips in concentration.

"You know, there could always be someone else." She said this gently, but I could hear the almost humorous undertone that made my stomach flip.

I chewed on my bottom lip not wanting to consider that, prattling my nails on the shabby countertop as I swung my feet. "The worst part is knowing he has secrets, and doesn't trust me enough to talk about anything. I mean I love-"

Rachel gasped theatrically, throwing her hand over her lips, my eyeliner clutched in her fist. "Don't you dare say it! You know how I feel about _that_ word."

"Ugh!" I dropped my head into my hands, "Can you be serious for one second? Please."

Rachel's small hand made gentle circles on my back, "Harley he _is_ a boy, they don't talk about anything. Why don't you just ask him straight up tomorrow?"

I snorted, the sound muffled by my hands. "That's if he even shows up."

Rachel tugged on my arm, "Come on Harls, I'll buy lunch."

Reluctantly, I followed her out of the girl's washroom and toward the cafeteria.

The caff reminded me of a sun room, all the walls but one were glass, showing the Vancouver landscape. There were so many mountains, even here. Tall and round some so far off you could just barely make out their shape.

A few years back we had "Green Week" in the spring, we'd planted so many saplings that now we couldn't see the town from the school yard.

It was scenic really, pines and maples stood tall everywhere, the entire property it seemed had been turned green – save for the tulips the gardener planted yearly of course.

"What do you feel like?" Rachel asked when we had lined up to buy lunch. I shrugged a shoulder, "Whatever, I'm not really hungry."

Rachel rolled her eyes, collecting two cans of Root Beer and a garden salad before going on in the line. She paid quickly; shoving one icy can into my hands and snapping the tab on her own open, before we moved to a table by the doors.

I watched in silence as she skewered leafy greens and chopped carrots. It was so loud in here today, I guess Rachel wasn't the only one freaking out about Mrs, Turner's dead dog.

Katie Jones face actually went as green as Rachel's salad when someone showed her the newspaper photo. And Jennifer Anderson just broke completely out in tears, although, I imagine she just did it for attention…

"Ladies." A familiar voice said from behind us, Stalon leaning down to kiss my cheek as he sat beside us. Michael walked around the table, sitting down with a huff.

Michael ran his fingers through his shaggy brown hair, reaching across the table to steal a small, folded over piece of lettuce from Rachel's plate.

An awkward feeling slashed through my stomach suddenly, and I found myself staring at a distracted Stalon. His eyes tapered angrily as he gazed around the cafeteria, his large hands balling into even larger fists on the table.

"What's your problem?" Rachel asked, when I looked over at her however, she wasn't speaking of Stalon but rather her brother.

Michael exchanged a glance with Stalon and shook his head. "We got some new kid in our automotive class today."

Stalon grunted, his expression almost hostile, with his nostrils flaring as they were, his eyes so tightly narrowed.

"Awe, did he fix a car better than you?" Rach said in a high-pitched baby voice and I giggled under my breath.

Michael gave her a sharp look all the while, Stalon at my side, went stiff as a board. His back was so brusquely straight it looked as if his spine would soon snap.

Rachel and Michael continued to go on back and forth with their crotchety comments. I slipped closer into Stalon; he didn't even budge like a livid puppy caught in the sights of another dog.

When I stretched out my arm to take hold of his hand he looked as if he would jump clean out of his skin. "What's wrong?" I asked, trying to follow his gaze, he didn't answer me.

"Sinclair." Stalon said stiffly, his soft voice strained as if he couldn't breathe. "Gabriel Sinclair."

"Stalon Piece." Said someone in response, both Rachel and Michael fell quiet, Rachel's intake of breath deafening in the overwrought stillness. When I looked beyond Stalon to the owner of the voice my eyes bulged slightly.

I'd thought Stalon was the perfect definition of tall dark and handsome, now I had to call it a draw.

His hair was surprisingly long, the colour of ink, spilling on his shoulders. His eyes were a piercing black to match, bottomless holes – I couldn't even see his pupils!

His oval face carried unforgettable features, so gentle and yet so fierce. The corner of his full lips slanted north to accommodate a fiery smirk. The shimmer of pearly teeth caught my eye, though I tried not to stare.

He wore a cerulean thermal, which fit tightly over sift bands of muscle. Distressed jeans hung loosely around lean legs, to end with black _Converse_.

He lifted an arm, offering his hand to me. "I assume this is your Tink then?"

When I reached out to shake his hand however, Stalon grabbed my wrist. "We have to go." His voice was just over a hiss, Stalon's square jaw clenched as he all but wrenched me from my chair.

Rachel didn't even look or say anything as Stalon hauled me away, too busy staring at Gabriel Sinclair, whose grin widened as he watched us leave.

"Hey!" I shouted, after he'd taken me halfway down the third hall, struggling to free my arm. "You're hurting me!"

After he'd dragged me into our empty locker bay Stalon finally released me. "My arm's numb." I growled shaking out my hand, "That was really rude Stalon."

Nothing I said appeared to faze him in the slightest. "I want you to stay away from him." Stalon's tone nearly made me flinch; the resentment there lingered in the air about us, choking me ferociously.

It took me a moment to gather my voice again, that, and the pins and needles beneath my skin were driving me crazy. "Why?" My voice was but an agonized yelp.

Stalon's brows knit together harshly, his lovely eyes shining remorsefully as he rose his hands to grasp my arm. "I didn't mean to hold you so hard." He said sheepishly, his smooth fingertips massaging my wrist where he'd gripped me so violently.

"D-don't change the subj-ject." I stuttered tripping over my words, a flush ascending up my neck as his fingers crept up my arm. "Tell me wh-why."

Stalon exhaled heavily, "Please, Harley, just take my word for it." I hated it when he said that.

"Can you not just give me a straight answer?" I questioned in aggravation.

His face contorted to show an expression of insistent, earnest pleading. Stalon's eyes wide and beseeching, "I don't like him."

It was as simple as that: 'I don't like him.' But it really did not do my tingling arm justice. "You just met him." I said feeling my face twist to complement the suspicion within my voice.

His expression suddenly began to draw another blank, as if he'd sucked back all his emotion with his last inhale. "Don't tell me you're jealous." I snickered, clasping my fingers around the gold material of his collar.

Stalon placed his hand flat on the locker behind us, keeping me from reeling him in too close. "That's a strong word." He murmured, thick brown lashes swept over my cheek.

Stalon's kiss was unforgettable, in a word. The kind that you would expect from the cheesy romance movies Rachel likes, with a shirtless Tom Cruise. The kind where your heart flutters and you just can't help but lift your foot a little – which I occasionally do.

Unfortunately, these kisses didn't last for long, and just as quickly as they stole your breath away, they vanished.

"You still won't come tonight?" I pressed lightly, throwing on my most innocent expression.

Stalon hung his head, huffing loudly as he did so. "Please…Tink, I can't."

The smooth fabric of his collar cackled tensely as I ran my nails over it. I needed an answer, a real answer; something I knew wasn't a shield for him to hide behind.

"You're not telling me something, I know you're not." I accused, Stalon looked as if I'd sacked him or something – another thing I occasionally do. Lifting his free hand I waited as he tore his fingers restlessly through white lion locks.

"Are you cheating on me? Rachel thinks you are." I demanded with the utmost solemnity which, clearly wasn't very much considering he burst out laughing.

He turned on his heels pacing away from me and for a second, I honestly thought he was just going to walk out on me.

"Harley you know how much I care about you." Stalon began, now it was my turn to chuckle.

"No, actually I don't." He made an indicted face like I'd blamed him for murder.

Stalon jabbed a long finger at me. "Now you know that isn't true-" I butt in glaringly.

"Isn't it? Tell me how much you care then." My voice cracked through an octave, my cheeks warming as I cleared my throat.

He gave me a discerning stare, knowing exactly the word I wanted to hear that I knew he wouldn't say. Stalon's pacing grew harder, as if he was trying to put his foot right through the ugly white tiles.

"You say it." He snapped at last. **What a child**, I thought to myself.

"I _can't, _'cause I know you'll run away if I do." And how comforting to know was that! I couldn't tell my boyfriend just how much I loved him because it would scare him off, _oh_ _goody_!

Stalon cupped his face in his hands, a stifled groan coming from between his large palms. "Harley." He sighed, "I wouldn't ever do that."

"Then say it." I challenge, lifting my chin arrogantly. Stalon straightened to the point his back was ramrod straight, I never really noticed but…he's a remarkably tall dude.

Big warm hangs cupped my face, their callused fingers twisting in my short hair. "I do care about you, no matter what Rachel says."

I shook my head, trying not to be distracted by his deliciously inviting cologne. "You know that's not what I want to hear."

He pulled me in and placed his gentle mouth over mine. I'd seen this movie before. Stalon Piece was just one big distraction, and he knew how to sidetrack me _so_ easily. That douche bag.

"Ew, get a room." Michael muttered, pushing Stalon and I apart. "People have had heart attacks from sucking-face like that."

Stalon's lip twitched, and for a moment I thought he'd take a snap at our disturber. The bell screeched, Stalon's aggravated expression becoming one of pain then he peered down at me and smiled.

"We'll finish this later Tink." He winked, slipping out before I had the chance to snatch that rugby jacket of his, and smother him with it. The word Piece outlined in shimmering gold. The last thing I saw before a swarm of hasty teens raced into our locker bay.

Ugh, that boy is good!

"What was that all about?" Rachel said jerking at her stubborn lock, the metal door swung round just as I jumped out of the way. Too many times that thing had smoked me in the face.

"The usual." I growled while shrugging a shoulder, Rachel gave me a quiet: "_tsk, tsk, tsk_," in response.

I was surprised she lasted that long. We'd made it half way to last period – skipping third, due to Michael and his antsy sister's smoke break – before Rachel broke out in a fit of "boy crazy" madness.

I listened and laughed as she gushed over Gabriel Sinclair, and oh yes, he wasn't just Gabriel you had to say the whole thing, _Gabriel Sinclair_!

Rachel and I were discussing tactics on how she could "catch," him while slinking into the English room. We'd learned how to time it perfectly. Mr. Monroe always went to get coffee at exactly 1:30 and that was when we crept in.

Sadly there was never a place where we could sit together at this time. And to make matters worse, Mr. Monroe decided to come back early today. Or rather, waddled back early today.

Mr. Monroe had a classic case of obesity, which, I couldn't make fun of having been a chubby child. But it bothered me how he was constantly had the coffee jitters, like a six-year-old after his first _Red Bull_. And when he jittered _all_ of him jittered.

That, and I couldn't get over how much his toupee looked like a racoon had jumped up their and died. It had fallen off on my desk once this semester and I screamed, thinking it'd zombie up and attack me.

But he was alright, he didn't nag me about being late, he was always so fun and dramatic when he read us excerpts from novels. Not to mention I got a kick out of his use of the words "hooligans," and "golly-gee." I actually enjoyed this class.

Today however he was in a cranky mood.

Gabriel Sinclair sat on the west side of our classroom, a chair was open beside him and, when I was moving for Rachel to take the seat Mr. Monroe just shouted for me to sit down.

Rachel stomped her foot and gave him the stink eye as she walked across the room to take the only open seat left, beside Jeremy Gold.

Jeremy was nice, a mathematical genius, with pants so high I was wondering how his junk breathed, but he was nice. Rachel brought her long braids over her shoulders, turning her chair away from him as she sat.

Mr. Monroe waited patiently, coffee in hand, for me to sit before he began his lecture. I stared unfocusedly into the water streaked blackboard watching him scroll: Macbeth, messily.

Brushing my hair behind my ears I peeked over at Gabriel, trying not to gasp when I realized he was staring at me. Shifting awkwardly in my seat I tried to ignore the new feeling that was his black eyes appraising me.

Yipping out an uncharacteristic: "Eep," when Clover Matthews slapped two red, cheap looking books on my table. I slid Gabriel his without ever looking up and cracked my book open to the first page.

We read silently for a good twelve seconds, before the class broke out in unruly chatter. Mr. Monroe only gazed around the room, saw that most of us were still reading, and returned to his newspaper and coffee.

"I suppose we were not properly introduced." Gabriel murmured, his voice like black velvet smoothing over my skin and I shuddered slightly.

I glanced at him, Stalon's voice sounding loudly in the back of my mind as I saw his extended hand. I shook it briefly, jumping up at the feel of his icy skin.

Gabriel smirked, "Piece seems a little overbearing." I glowered over at him, shooing away the girly blush trying to dominate my cheeks.

"That was bold." I hissed instantly, he'd been here one day and thought he could comment on Stalon? Who was he to judge?

Gabriel's smile widened, exposing perfectly straight, hyper-white teeth. He must've had braces at some point, I figured. "Thank you." He grinned, his black hair splayed about his elegant face.

I sneered, flipping the page of my book to at least pretend I was reading.

"I don't blame him, you are very beautiful." Gabriel remarked calmly, his colourless eyes seemingly alive with amusement as my face shot a pink hue.

"Yes, and Stalon is my boyfriend so…" I nodded, eyes flickering between his haughty expression and the yellowed papers of the Macbeth remake.

"Oh!" Gabriel gasped, his face alight with mock surprise. "I realize that, I also see that he is very protective of his territory."

The way he laughed told me I was missing an extremely large portion of this joke.

I snorted, "It's not like I _belong_ to him."

"On the contrary, I believe he's come to think so." Gabriel turned the whispering pages of his novel, and with each turn I heard a mumbled warning, a voice which spoke of evil.

I snubbed him like Michael would a cigarette, revisiting the tragic story between my fingers. Gabriel snickered.

On second thought, I hate this class.


	3. Chapter Three

I nearly leapt from my skin at the suddenness in which I collided with Stalon, considering he stood directly outside of my classroom when we were dismissed. I could have sworn if the door was closed it would have brushed his nose.

Four hands caught me; Stalon's fiery palms overlapping the frigged fingers of Gabriel Sinclair on my hips. I yelped as Stalon all but tore me from his grasp, Gabriel only grinned wickedly before pacing around us.

"I told you to stay away from him." Stalon's voice was barely human, his wide eyes both hard and flaying. I pushed out of his rigid arms to look him deep in the eye.

"Would you relax? You're the one who tripped me!" I shot back, slapping his hands from me as I headed toward my locker.

He never stepped on my heels, but the same pressure was there. Stalon could have passed as my shadow.

"Harley, I don't think you realize just how serious I am about this." Stalon hissed, his voice low like he was afraid someone was going to hear about his jealousy issue.

Rachel had long since left with Michael, she'd left our locker open for me, leaving but a note stuck to the inside of the door. I shoved the square of folded paper into my jean pocket, jamming my books into my bag.

"I know, I know, stay away from him blah, blah, blah." I stuck my tongue out at him, slamming the rectangular door shut, pulling my coat on and, squeezing through the noisy mass of my peers to reach the hall.

Stalon snatched the back of my collar, tugging me back. "Please, Harley, Please!" Begging? Oh, this was serious alright.

"Would you stop," I groaned. "I'll stay away from Gabriel if you show up tomorrow."

His lips parted to protest, but I wrenched him down to my level instead. Stalon kissed me fiercely, his arms crushingly tight around my waist.

"Bye, good luck." I smirked, releasing his jacket as I headed down the hall and out the main doors. Yellow busses had begun to pull out of the small lot, the scent of freshly cut grass and the snarl of a hungry lawnmower greeted me when I strode outside.

Michael waved at me – or rather flailed his arm about – through the dusty window and I laughed. I sat down on the cement stairs, waiting for the city bus.

I could hear the music from the change rooms all the way out here, the rugby boys getting all pumped up for their game tonight. I had wanted to stay and watch, but due to Stalon bugging the crap out of me, I'd changed my plans.

My fingers dug around in my pocket, pinching a corner of Rachel's note I drew it out. Unravelling the recycled paper to read:

Sorry about Stalon, he was a boob anyways. I'll come over tonight and help ya watch the brats.

Be there around 5.

Love, Rachie

I smiled; at least I wouldn't be so alone tonight.

"Harley." I nearly considered throwing myself down the remaining stairs when Gabriel sat down next to me.

"Can you just go away; Stalon really doesn't like you, and I don't feel like getting in more trouble." I snapped in response, Gabriel only chuckled, leaning back against the hard edge of the step behind us.

"Isn't that what makes it all the more thrilling?" He sighed, his black hair dancing in the swift late afternoon breeze. Rachel was right, he was worth a look or two.

"I've never really been into adrenalin." I remarked sharply, Gabriel's dark gaze swept over me.

"Stubborn aren't you?" He breathed, "Would you be convinced if I said I was just trying to make friends?"

A quiet giggle snuck past my lips, I looked over at his heartfelt expression and smiled. "No."

Gabriel's wintry fingertips moved over my temple, taking with it a cluster of magenta to tuck behind my ear. My skin crawled, tender goose bumps plotting themselves all over me. "You are lovely Harley Tinker." I blinked against the abrupt shimmer of a bring ring on his hand.

I blew out a hearty gust, my eyes moving anxiously about the lot in search of the city bus. A heavy frown pulled down the corners of my lips when I saw no sign of any white bus anywhere.

"Have you met my friend Rachel?" So I tried plan B.

Gabriel grinned, "Of course, she seemed rather unhappy when you sat with me today."

I overlooked his comment completely. "Isn't she just great, you know, really pretty? You guys should hang out sometime, she's so funny."

I tried not to choke on my words, which, with focus I managed to keep from doing. However, that said nothing for the obvious cracking my voice was doing.

"You're a good friend." Gabriel's empty eyes moved about the school lot, a whispering exhale arcing over his lips. "I've not had many of those in a long time."

His voice held some nostalgia that I couldn't grasp, like sand running through my fingers. Gabriel's voice drew me in, the way a magnet called to another.

He faced me after a long while, black eyes wide and sincere. Now if only he could pass some of that on to Stalon, that would be nice.

Gabriel smirked, "Your bus is here." I hurried my gape away from him, staring at the bus and some other students clamouring on. Before long, a hand blocked my view. Slipping my fingers nervously into his, Gabriel lifted me to my feet.

I stumbled back, his nose practically grazing my own. "Um," I began taking my hand back. "Th-thank you for waiting with me."

Gabriel nodded a fraction plucking up my bag to slide gently into my hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you Harley."

I jumped down the last few steps, racing up to the bus a second before the doors had begun to close. Slithering in I greeted Miss Stephanie Golding, the driver, who gave me a huge smile.

My change cling-clanged into the money slot and I shuffled to the back of the bus in silence. There were few people I knew from a couple of my classes riding with me.

Thankfully, they didn't really notice me, too busy laughing and whispering amongst themselves. An old lady, seated behind Miss Stephanie, kept looking back at me. It was the same lady everyday.

Sometimes I just got irritated and made a wonky face at her so she'd stop. It wasn't the first time she'd seen my hair a wild colour.

Since Rachel liked to experiment, I was glad to be her test subject. After I'd gotten my tongue pierced, my Dad had given up on trying to put an end to our crazy shenanigans.

My hair had been lime green at the beginning of the year, but I got bored of that and we'd dyed it this awesomely vivid cherry red.

Soon I grew tired of Stalon calling me "Ariel," though and the instant my roots started to show, I made Rachel try a wicked royal blue. Then the colours clashed and now it was magenta, which I didn't mind all that much.

A small part of me insisted that I give her the finger, but I didn't think I could live with the guilt if she had a heart attack or something. So instead I just waved and grinned friendly, the lady made a nasty face at me, shifting in her seat.

Leaning against the window, I rested my hands in my lap, studying the brilliant orb that was the shining sun against the layer of jagged mountaintops.

I'd lived her all my life and still, I couldn't get over how beautiful it was. The curls of white clouds against the dazzling ocean of blue sky, then the sudden tare of gold that was the sun, burnt a gorgeous gold.

I always wanted to try and grab it; Dad told me all these wild stories about how Mom had built a house on the sun.

That she was the reason it shone so bright, and if she left the light would go out. He said she came at night time and saw us, snuggled up close to us, that was why our beds got so warm.

Then I grew up, and realized those stories were but the fancy of a lonely Irish man.

Maybe that's why he hooked up with Maria, never thought of that.

Maria's my aunt; he said it was an accident that never should have happened. But I was old enough to know that auntie Maria looked a hell of a lot like Mom.

Swallowing hard, I turned my attention to the trees. Tall ones, saplings, bushy ones that reminded me of Mr. Mann's poodle, Bobby.

Those funny looking trees then turned into houses small houses, and big ones, ugly ones. Beautiful houses, which were gigantic and had a lawn chalk full of green grass and hundreds of flowers.

Those were the kind of houses I imagined Mom lived in.

I passed my sister and brother's school; they hadn't been set loose yet – thank God. Then yanked on the yellow cord above my head to be let off.

The old lady stretched her cane out a little further and I scowled. Miss Stephanie said her cheerful goodbye, carrying on with her route once I was safely on the sidewalk.

My subdivision was pretty big, planted right outside of town, which was nice. And we had a vast variety of people, it was never boring.

We had the old couples, who sat on their long porches gossiping about each other's grandkids. Or went on cute walks around the block, talking about "the old days".

Even the newly weds, who were so adorable at first, friends with everyone. Rachel sometimes bet how much the guy would last. She usually had an accurate guess. Months after they moved in, it wasn't unusual to see the guy leaving in the afternoon.

The Martin's last about two weeks after Michele Martin got pregnant, then the Button's ten days after they moved in and, surprisingly, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis were still here.

And then we had families like us. Families who were a little broken in some places, but still managed to hold it all together – for the most part. Many on our block had Moms and such, or step-Dads and step-Moms.

My Dad has Jack the husky. He was kind of like someone to fill the void for a while, but now Jack's really one of us. He follows my Dad everywhere the basement to upstairs, upstairs to the basement.

The only time he really wasn't with him was at night time. Right at 9:30 he was on the foot of my bed, all nuzzled into the green duvet. His massive white and russet body flat across the end of my bed, like some mammoth fluff ball.

I moved through the winding subdivision, mumbling hello to Mr. Baker, rummaging around in his vegetable garden. Waving to Miss Westlake as she chased her three kids around in the driveway.

Passing the hedges and flowerbeds, the silly yard ornaments, the Christmas decorations that had yet to come down. I saw the small grey two story on the last corner and smiled, it always felt good to be home.

We didn't have the same flamingo junk on our yard as, say, Mrs. Pearson. Instead our house was smothered by trees; from the sidewalk one could only see a small portion of the house. But it was a lovely place.

Dad was never much a gardener – that was more Mom's thing – although we did have a few azaleas that Bridgette looked after.

Through the vast living room window, I could see Jack, barking and bouncing. His colossal paws leaving marks on the glass. Dad was worried about letting him out, since Miss Hannah's dog Janie had been, um…eaten.

I remembered coming home and being attacked by the subdivision dogs. Thor, the German Shepard was known to jump up, more than once he'd gotten me down on the pavement, engaging in one of his licking onslaughts. Clayton Mudd always had to pull him off of me.

Clayton Mudd and I had been best friends for as long as I could remember. Unfortunately, Clayton ended up going to an arts school for music and I went to the average secondary school.

We didn't hang out much anymore – because his Mother thought me a delinquent. Though, sometimes when I'd take Jack for a walk he'd lean out the front door and yell across the street for me to marry him.

Clayton Mudd was my first kiss, it happened behind the big oak tree in his backyard. Of course we were nine then, and Stalon was yet to move here.

Either way, I always shouted back in my most dramatic of voices: "Oh Clayton, yes! Where shall our honeymoon be?"

Clayton was still mulling that over.

I could hear Jack inside the house, barking his lungs out as I poked around in my coat pocket for the door key. I jammed it in the slot, jiggling the stupid thing around when at long last the lock clicked.

Once the door was open, Jack shot out like a rocket, darting around the front yard as if he'd just dug up the Holy Grail. His tail waggled speedily, blue eyes wide and excited as he yipped and yowled.

I watched him carefully, my stomach tensing as he drew toward the more woodland-ish, more ominous half of our yard. I watched the swaying of his tan and white tail as it disappeared into the shadowed trees.

Ten long seconds went by and my heart began to flutter. There weren't yelps or anything nor were there any growls. That was good right?

"J-Jackie?" I called into the darkness, he whimpered in return. My mouth ran dry, tongue swelling behind my lips. "Jack!" A scream ripped out from the back of my throat.

And out came big Jack, in his mouth Elliot's long lost baseball, chewed to bits. He dropped it at my feet, trotting inside as if I hadn't just had a heart attack.

**Typical male**, I thought.

Following him inside, I kicked my sneakers off into the shoe closet whilst closing the front door. The butterfly coat hook my Dad had made me shuddered nosily as I draped my jacket on it.

Our house was full of Dad's contraptions, contorted little knickknacks he'd created from rubbish he found in the attic or junk he picked up at the dump.

Dad was a meddler, which suited us perfectly. He liked to mess around with old computer hardware and turn it into, well, my coat hook for example.

Our basement was his laboratory; filled wall to wall with all his tools and toys. He could take the ugliest, hopeless piece of garbage and turn it into something beautiful.

It was a shame he couldn't do that with our family.

I came into the kitchen, pouring fresh food and water into Jacks bowls – made from clay by my father. Running my fingers through the russet hair cascaded down Jack's back while he ate.

I ran through the fridge in disgust, we ate so much take-out. A massive container filled with pizza, another stuffed with last night's Chinese, and a few bottles of cream soda was what I had to entertain Rachel with tonight. Perfect.

Cooking was another thing my Mom did.

Cracking the lid on one of the boxes I tossed it into the microwave, the smell of pepperoni as well as extra cheese enticing my nose. Seated on the counter I chugged back a litre of _Pepsi_.

The rattle of the front door had Jack's ears up, his whole body going stiff for a moment.

Elliot and Bridgette tumbled in loudly. The hard pound of their shoes hitting the back of the closet wall caused me to growl.

"Dad said you're not supposed to sit on the counter." Elliot scolded, his salad bowl shaped brown hair swaying in his eyes as he looked at me from the doorway.

"Dad isn't here is he? You're stuck with me 'til ten, so if you don't wish to spend the next six hours wrapped in the carpet again, you'd better piss off." I hissed, Elliot snorting at me as he stomped over to the fridge.

Bridgette came in shortly after, dropping to her knees to coo at the dog. Jack was so tolerant; I don't know how he does it.

My sister's blaze of red tresses tied off into the French braid I did this morning. Her pink lips puckered to lather Jack with kisses, Bridgette's blue eyes wide and smothering.

Bridgette and Elliot are fraternal twins, Elliot having brown hair like Dad and Bridge with red curls like Mom. They had the same irritating face however. With their undeveloped nine-year-old noses, pudgie cheeks and, cute chubby lips as icing on the cake.

They have the same personality traits too: they both whined, they both cried, and they both bugged the shit out of me. Elliot more that Bridgette, but they were still equally annoying.

"What's for dinner?" Bridgette asked, her high voice harked back the memory of my school bell. Watching me point at the microwave she left Jack and hurried towards it.

My fingers folded tightly around the neck of the _Pepsi_ bottle as I slid off the slippery counter. Elliot and Bridgette were left arguing over who got the biggest pizza slice, while Jack and I went upstairs.

My room hadn't been clean in years. Mom used to sneak in when I was at school and tidy things, after she left us Dad couldn't careless about the clutter.

It wasn't so bad, just a few clothes and pop cans lying around. It was nothing like Elliot's room, that's for sure.

That boy lived like a caveman.

I liked my room, with all the burgundy accents and sunset walls it was constantly fall in here. It was nice to sit on the wooden windowsills, looking out into the forest behind our house.

Before the twins were born, I used to hide behind the great, draping maroon curtains that hung around the long windows.

Each time we played hide-and-seek Dad would pretend he couldn't find me there. It was always my giggling that gave me away. Now I knew that he could see my silhouette perfectly behind the curtains.

Between these windows used to be a cradle, which soon evolved into a twin bed – that now belonged to Bridgette – and then, at long last became a queen bed.

I loved my bed, it was so tall and so comfortable, it felt like you were sleeping on a giant marshmallow.

It was situated so perfectly that when I was afraid of the dark I just left the curtains open instead of flicking on the lights. The moon shone in so bright it would light up the entire room, gobbling up all the frightening shadows.

With a yawn Jack flopped to the floor, his blue eyes following me everywhere I went. A lengthy pink tongue dangled out the side of his mouth, flicking up and down with his sharp breaths.

Pacing to my nightstand I lifted the shoe that served as my phone, dialling my Father's work number into the treads. Listening to the cackling of the ring I picked at my nail polish.

"Hullo?" Mumbled a memorable weary voice, I could hear the click-clack of his keyboard and the voices in the background. My Father hated his job.

"Hi Daddy." I said cheerily, plopping down on the floor with Jack, whose tail thudded loudly on the hardwood in expression of his own optimism.

"How was school?" His voice lifted softly. I could almost picture him pushing his glasses up his nose, happily accepting the distraction I brought him.

"Ugh." I replied, listening to him chuckle on the other end. I didn't want to discuss school right now. The more I thought of Gabriel and Stalon the more it made my head hurt.

"Elliot and Beach get home alright?" Dad's voice carried with it the same concern as when he told me not to go out at night without him anymore.

"Yeah don't worry; they're downstairs fighting over pizza." I sighed, with a roll of my eyes.

There was a scuffle on Dad's end, before there was a muffled, "…yes, yes…the Jackson case? That's a shame….of course Tanya can do it."

Dad exhaled into the phone, sending static on to me. "I have to go now sweetheart, I'll see you when I get home."

He'd see me alright, sleeping.

"Love you." He said before there was a noisy clap and an irritating dial tone.

I set the sneaker-phone back down on the port, changing out of my clothes I stuck an elastic headband in, wrapped a towel around myself and turned for the bathroom.

With an exaggerated grunt Jack came to his feet, ambling after me, his claws scraping across the hardwood. I closed and locked the door and, over the sputtering of the shower head I could hear him whimpering.

Had Dad not told me I wasn't allowed to have him in the bathroom with me, I would have certainly given him access.

But it got too hot in here for him, and I couldn't leave the door open, lest I want to be walked in on by the brats. I always felt bad leaving a man behind enemy lines though.

However, the moment I had the hot water massaging my back I completely forgot about Jack. Consumed by the scent of lilac shampoo and vanilla body wash, I was in total bliss.

I shoved Stalon Piece and Gabriel Sinclair entirely out of my head, gleefully welcoming the silence of an open mind. I slouched beneath the shower head, blinking away the warm beads that clung to my eyelashes.

White bubbles of soap burped up around the shower drain my skin, gone pink in the relentless heat, blew off clouds of misty steam. I pressed my head against the wall tiles, closing my eyes and following where the pitter-patter of water took me.

I was dreaming, I knew I was. It's just that…I usually knew where I was in my dreams, but I didn't know this place at all.

Everywhere I looked was darkness and shadow. Trees surrounded me like an endless fence made up of tall, ominous bodies. The branches rattled above me, wriggling like snakes in the air.

Thick, grey fog flooded in all around me, claws reaching for my throat. I jumped to my feet, the yellow grass below coughing beneath my anxious movements.

I wheeled around in an attempt to escape, facing a familiar door instead. The front door to my house…

"Let me in." Whispered a voice, causing me to jump. I could taste my heart beat, could feel it in my veins pounding, battering erratically.

My skin felt wet, all over. And cold, as if I'd been lain in a bed of ice. "Let me in," it was a ghost of a voice, thrumming in my ears and breathing frost on to my skin.

I reached hesitantly for the doorknob, gasping at the fire which greeted my flesh. It was frozen.

There was panting, everywhere husky, guttural panting. I swallowed dryly, trying to slow my breaths.

I held the knob tighter; wincing at the pain frigidity brought me. And felt then, fingers on my throat, gentle at first then hostile. Nails gouged into my neck, turning me around and slamming me against the door, I met Stalon's gaze fearfully.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't breathe a word – couldn't breathe! My palms slipped on his clothes as I tried to shove him off of me.

"Let me in!" He demanded, his fingers squeezing down even harder, my tongue clicking against the roof of my mouth when I tried to scream.

"Harley!"

I jerked up, eyes fluttering wide as I looked up at Bridgette, Jack, Rachel and Elliot. My face reddened my eyes shooting down, ever thankful that the shower curtain was covering my most unspeakable.

"Wh-what's going on?" I murmured, even my voice had gone sore and crackly. Rachel's face mirrored true concern her hand moving through my damp hair. "You tell us." She stated her auburn eyes at my throat.

My hands raced up to feel coarse, bloody markings. Gasping I stared up at them, my face burning from on coming tears. "What happened to me?"

Elliot snorted, folding his arms across his chest; Bridgette bit her lip as if in deep thought. "Well, Jackie started barkin' like mad and was clawin' the door to bits tryin' to get in. Then we heard this big noise and ran up here."

"I picked the lock," Rachel smirked proudly. "And you'd fallen out of the shower, wrapped right up in the curtain on the floor. You really scared me Harls." The way she said it made it seem like it was my fault all this had occurred.

"I-I need a band-aid." I breathed, clutching the curtain as I staggered to my feet. Rachel kept her hands on my shoulders, looking me carefully in the eyes.

After shooing the twins and Jack off she shut the door and broke out laughing. "Whatever you're on, I want some." I groaned, wiping the washroom mirror down.

"I'm not high Rach." I glared at her, searching the drawers for a package of band-aids or gauze. "I just got the shit scared out of me."

Rachel made a disgusted face at my terminology, while sitting down on the toilet seat. She crossed her legs and watched me mossy around the room, evidently disbelieving of what I'd said.

The tape I found cried out in protest as I tore a piece off, folding up a square of squishy gauze as the mirror began to clear. I wasn't expecting half of what came into sight, five fingers even showed blood red on my skin.

My fingers trembled as I cleaned the wounds and pressed the bandage on. How could this have happed, how when it was just a dream?

It _was_ just a dream…right? I mean, why would Stalon do that? I know I made him angry sometimes, but he wouldn't ever even consider laying a finger on me.

**Perhaps I just fainted. Then when I was freaking out I scratched myself in an attempt to get his hands from around my neck. Yes, that makes sense. **I thought,convincing myself of this, that I'd caused the violent wounds myself. Yup, that made perfect sense.

"So if you're not high, what really happened?" Rachel asked, reading my thoughts.

I shrugged a shoulder, pulling my clothes on craftily as not to reveal myself to her. "I-I fainted." My words did not sound right to me my voice even, seemed to breathe to me in a private existence of it's own. Where it breathed: "Lies."

Shuddering, I grasped at the counter to stable myself again. Carefully I shoved the shower rod back in place, hooking the brackets which held the curtain back on.

"And whilst being unconscious scratched your throat open?" Rachel did not need to make any extra effort to sound any more leery.

I gave her a stern look, _that_ I had to put effort into. "I guess." I murmured embarrassedly. "The dream I was having really set the ripping-your-throat out mood."

Rachel sighed, slouching over herself. "Well you're alive…so, lets go do something." And with those words my previous accident was stuffed entirely into the back of her mind.

As we walked back down the hall to my room, I wondered how I'd explain this to Dad. He'd probably think I was making another terrible attempt at covering up a hickie.

Slumped across my wine-coloured duvet, I listened to Rachel prattle on about how sexy Gabriel's eyes were. Soon, she'd moved on to his voice – pointing out how he spoke loud and confident, unlike Stalon who had a shy, rumbling murmur of a voice.

When she began to bag on Stalon's body however, I could not let that one slide. Her argument was that Gabriel was built like a Greek God; she'd even gone so far as to say that Orlando Bloom couldn't compare.

Mine was that she'd never seen Stalon's body.

Our debate ended in a pillow fight. In which I was kicked off the side of my own bed and, she had her braids yanked on. 

Rachel's stays went in a certain fashion. For one, I never needed to ask if she could come over. Dad had grown so used to just waking up, checking in on me, finding me sprawled on the floor with Rachel all snuggled up under the sheets. She was a bed hog.

We usually hung out in the only zone the twins were not allowed to be in: My room. I have free reign to beat on either of them if they entered without knocking and luckily, they never knocked.

Here we quizzed each other in magazines, ate tubs of ice-cream, watched horror movies, did homework and talked about everything that came to mind. I know, how cliché.

Although lately, most of our discussions were about Stalon Piece. I felt bad telling Rachel about him instead of talking to him right to his face although, I knew she would give me a straight answer whereas; he wouldn't.

It wasn't always like this though, another cliché. He used to be the highlight of my day, then everything got different.

"So do you just plan on blathering to me, or are you seriously going to talk to him?" I asked, raising a slender brow at Rachel, seated cross legged at the foot of my bed.

She ran her fingers through the pleats her hair had become, due to her braids. "I did." Her voice raised excitedly, her eyes glittering at another opportunity to say Gabriel Sinclair. "At lunch, after you guys bailed to go make-out."

I bit down hard on my lip. It hadn't exactly been my idea to leave. Mumbling an "oh," I waved for her to continue.

She flicked wavy brown hair over her shoulder, pushing her glasses up her long nose. "Yes, he introduced himself and said he'd just moved here from London, England – he hated all the rain. Then he started making jokes that made no sense…he looked cute though."

I rolled my eyes swinging my arm up over my face, wincing at the horrible ache in my neck. I pondered telling her what all he'd said to me today. Quickly deciding against it, when I remembered how jealous Rachel could get over the silliest things.

"You gunna do the Math homework?" I wondered aloud, thinking about the pages of quadratic triangles that needed to be examined in my backpack.

Rachel snorted, analysing the green polish coating her nails as a substitute. "I will when you do."

We both knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

After a moment of extended silence, Rachel drew me to my feet, ordered me to sit on the stool in front of my giant mirror. I knew where this was going.

Seconds later, my hair was being pulled, clipped up, ironed, braided. Rachel fussed over how much she disliked the magenta, proclaiming how it took away from my eyes. I stiffened when she demand that I sit still, swinging my head whichever way she directed me to.

It seemed as if her big sleep-over bag was bottomless, as she whipped out various irons, both flat and round. Lining up a row of glimmering silver hair clips and beside them laid endless colours of scrunchies.

A stack of thickly bristled hairbrushes lay atop of each other, round brushes and maple backed brushes.

Next to those stood a collection of hairsprays, one for volume, the other extra hold, the last for stimulating my root.

Rachel talked like a hairdresser, coaxing all my secrets from me as she combed and sprayed. I made a mental note not to allow anything about Gabriel slip from my lips.

An hour later, when Rachel was artfully creating tight ringlets around my face, there was a rap on my door. I swallowed back the need to throw something at Elliot when he entered, Bridgette on his heels.

Rubbing his hand on his t-shirt, smearing remnants of pizza sauce down the front of him, Elliot lifted the phone to me. I'd been so absorbed in spilling my guts that I hadn't even heard the thing ring.

"Go." I said, pinching the phone between my shoulder and cheek as I motioned for the twins to get out. There was a shuddering sigh on the other end, "Tink."

I stared at the phone in awe, so Stalon could read my thoughts now too? All I needed to do was roll my eyes for Rachel to figure out who it was.

"What?" The acid on my tongue, tangling with the bubbles in my stomach did not make me feel well. Talking to him now made the dream come back to me, along with the twinge of the marks marring my throat.

"You're upset, what's bothering you?" Stalon's voice was sharp, his breaths coming quickly. My brow wrinkled curiously…were there birds in the background?

"Nothing, the twins are irritating me," I lied. "What are you doing?" I shifted uncomfortably on my stool, Rachel cursing at me, grumbling for me to sit still. Stalon grunted on the other end, "Running."

A small titter rose to my lips, "Wh-what? Are you still at practice?" His rasps cut off a moment before the rate at which he breathed increased.

"Err, no. No, not anymore." His tone lowered, I felt suspicion cripple my features.

"Oh, hmm, well then I hope you're running here." I rested my fist on my hip; Rachel groaned releasing my hair to go tumble to my bed in frustration.

Stalon laughed long and hard, apparently finding my agitation humorous. "Rachel's there." He said this not as a question.

But I'd said nothing of her.

"Harley?" Stalon said after a lengthy minute of wordless quiet. I shook my head, unable to wrap myself around his thought process.

"Sorry, look, what do you want? Did you just call to bug me?" I demanded, I could almost visualise the surprise light his face perfectly.

"N-no Tink, why?" He questioned, offended. I scowled into the green eyes of my reflection, raking out the magenta Shirley Temple ringlets Rachel had given me.

I grunted out my displeasure, "Well you're obviously not coming here."

Now that was somewhat upsetting, he was running around somewhere, doing God knows what. And that was what made him _oh so_ busy tonight.

"No, not tonight." Stalon agreed, his tone softer than before, slower. "I just wanted to talk to you s'all."

Well that was really going to put a damper on my angry roll. I glanced over my shoulder at Rachel who had discovered my stack of _Seventeen_ and had begun flipping through the magazines.

"I've got a lot of stuff to do right now. Bye." I declared, taking the phone from my ear, as not to hear his meaningless goodbyes.

My thumb pressed down hard on the Off button, I tossed the cordless across the room watching as it thudded to the carpet.

"Dump him." Rachel announced, peering at me over the rims of her circular glasses. I laughed; she looked like my dad when he was trying to reprimand me.

"No!" I moaned, "I can't, that's the problem!" How could I just break off something that meant so much to me? Then again…how could I not? Stalon got under my skin more than he was aware of after all.

"Pfft!" Was the noise she made in response, "What do you even like about him? There's tons of fish in the sea, Harls."

**Fish in the sea. **I repeated to myself silently, Rachel made guys seem like a bottle of water she could just recycle later.

Not many of the guys at school were nice, and if they were it was merely a commonly used ploy to extract what they desired. I learned this from Michael Slater – Rachel's brother.

I'd never gone out with him, to his dismay, but I'd had the privilege to see all the girls who came and went. Some lasted weeks, others days, most were one-night-stands.

Michael had an excuse however, whenever provoked by Rachel and me about how he 'used' girls – most of whom we knew. He'd been hurt once. Her name was Katie Payne, which I thought ironic.

He hated talking about it, but I figured that was his reason for chasing after every short skirt in sight. Kate lived in Chicago and came here to spend every summer with her Grandparents.

Somewhere along the line of going out with friends, she and Michael crossed paths. Over the course of the summer, something of a relationship had formed. With a simple "I love you," Katie easily took advantage of all the naïve, 6 foot and-a-smidge farm boy glory.

When the summer had finished however, Michael had driven her to the airport to go home, but they were surprised by Jake, Katie's boyfriend.

Michael was smashed into so many pieces Rachel and I never managed to collect them all.

Jakie and Katie spent three extra weeks here together, and lived happily ever after.

I figure Michael only felt good about the whole situation was when he was the one who could sneak out of bed in the morning. He got to be the one who walked away completely unscathed.

Though that said little for the girls who never fully got up again.

Stalon was one of the very few who wasn't like that. He was the one who didn't brag to the guys about how he'd scored over the weekend. And to my knowledge he still had something there to be shared with me.

Now, what did I like about Stalon Piece?

I liked how he was so demure and quiet. I liked the way his face reddened when I embarrassed him. I liked how he grinned crookedly when he was nervous. I liked the way he smelled like an open field of sweet grass.

I loved the colours of his eyes, and how they were always so animated. I loved how his big clumsy hands could be so gentle. I loved how his voice would squeak when I said his name.

"Harley." Rachel sang, grabbing my ankles and pulling me out of the clouds. When I looked at her she had a knowing sparkle to her auburn eyes.

She sighed, turning the murmuring paged of her magazine. "If you won't dump him, could you please stop fantasising and do something about him?"

"When I figure out what to do with him." I mumbled, slipping from the stool to crawl across my bed. Rachel spread the horoscope page of the magazine out before us both.

I snorted in disapproval, "You don't actually believe this stuff do you?" I asked tilting my head in appal.

She looked at me again over the thick rims of her glistening lenses, then said: "Look'a here miss, you came over you c'n deal wiff it." I laughed; she could make the best impression of Mr. Slate.

Rachel stabbed her long green nail in the center of a purple square that read:

Sagittarius

Take time to appreciate yourself, after a stressful incident you will want nothing but Me Time. Relax and focus on you, no ones more important.

"That is such bull." I growled, rolling on to my back. "What 'stressful incident'?"

Rachel gasped, "My break up with Mason last week! That boy was too much talk."

I rolled my eyes, staring up at the high curve of the white ceiling. "That's coincidence!" My tone was wholly sceptical.

"Oh really." Rachel said snootily, clearing her throat. "Leo-" I groaned. "-'This month will present a very sombre event, keep your friends as close as possible, as you may lose someone very important. Be mindful of the wolf in sheep's clothing, but watch constantly the creature who speaks with a forked tongue'."

Along the way Rachel's voice had lost it's haughty humour and lowered to that of a more serious tone. Then she whined in dissatisfaction, "Why do you get the cool one?"

"Rach it's not true, what wolf with a forked tongue?" I slapped my hands down on the bed sheets, making a face up at the roof above us.

Rachel blew out heavily, the lingering scent of cinnamon gum making it's way over to me. "It's wolf in sheep's clothing and creature with a forked tongue." She paused briefly and I could hear the cogs ticking away in her head. "Wonder who it could be?"

"Not even a little bit, I mean, the snake could be Mrs. Stewart for all you know." I shrugged, hearing the disgust in the back of her throat.

"Probably. But still! Aren't you a little curious?" The excitement in her words was tangible.

We spent hours discussing the wolf and snake – since Rachel gave me no other option. It wasn't until Bridgette came in to say good night that I realized what time it was.

My clock read midnight, and I shouted from my bed how they both should have been in bed ages ago.

Twenty minutes after Bridgette had slammed my door, I began to doze off. Rachel rambled on and on, until I was well into another dream, her voice remaining a consistent whisper in the back of my mind.

I dreamt about a fat yellow snake, coiling around me. It's dry, smooth body wrapping around my waist, I wanted to bat it away, to scream and run. But the fear that it would bite me was far greater.

It was not until I could feel the tickle of it's black tongue on my cheek, and the hiss of it's breath on my hair that a small noise came to my lips. I wriggled in it's grasps, gasping while it's long pale body began to tauten.

My screams were heard by deaf ears, as I listened to the crackle of bones snapping rhythmically inside me. The snake's whispering breath broke into the gravely cackles of a mad man.

I could see spots of red in my eyes, like the spatter of rain on a windshield. But this was not rain and I could not wipe it off. I fought to breathe, unable to hear the ragged rasps over the pound of surging laughter.

I blinked once, my lids closing as I felt my body breaking under the constricted hold of the yellow snake.

My ears rang with it's maniacal chuckle and the heavy sound of a trembling heart. I choked out a breath, hearing nothing but a distant howl.

A cry in the void, then the scrape of pads. The snake's laughter faded, vaguely I could feel it's hold crumbling. I heard more than felt the crack of my skull on a hard floor, something cold touched my face.

Had I the ability to wince, the surprise of the sudden dampness of my skin certainly would have stirred one.

A warm tongue swept over my skin, a gurgle of a laugh rising in my throat. I wept soundlessly, as another creature came to me. I heard the flow of a steady heart and the brush of hair.

My back propped up on it's body, I rolled my head lifelessly over to the side, to stare into the massive face of a wolf.

It's brown fur so thick and soft, it's eyes so warm and gentle. Snow white hairs poked out of the unbroken brown, softly showing around it's large eyes and muzzle.

The wicked scent of dog breath came from it's parted jaws, I wanted to turn away. The wolf seemed to laugh quietly at this, closing it's colossal mouth to rest it's head in my lap.

A contorted had rose to run it's twisted fingers through the brown fur. My lips twitched painfully, in an attempt to smile.


	4. Chapter Four

"Tinkerbelle." Someone said.

Yawning, I scrubbed my eyes. "Five more minutes," I pled listening to a soft chuckle.

"Come on baby, or you won't have time for breakfast."

Slowly I opened my eyes, peering up at my Dad, who pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled softly. Returning the grin, I tried to figure out just how he'd gotten so tall. It was then I realized I was lying on the floor.

I reached up, feeling the familiarly dry hands of my Father bringing me to my feet. His hand rested on the small of my back, as I climbed back into bed beside Rachel.

"Five minutes – that's it." Dad pointed a long finger at me while I smirked. I saw the flicker of his blue apron and then heard him quietly close my door.

Ducking my head under one of the hundreds of downy pillows I had sprawled across my bed. Rachel's legs were positioned awkwardly over mine, her long hair I could feel on my side.

The cold that met my face in the darkness below my pillow was refreshing. I sighed, closing my eyes and nodding back into a pleasant sleep.

Rachel moaned, rolling onto her other side and taking the majority of my burgundy duvet with her. She sighed then, "You're Dad's such a push over." She whispered groggily.

"I know, I love it." I grumbled back, curling up beneath the warmth of what portion of the covers still belonged to me. Rachel snickered, however, that was the last I heard of her – not counting the quiet snores of her deep slumber.

Soon we had both slipped back into a perfect sleep….which lasted a wonderful fiver minutes before there was cheering and jumping.

Elliot and Bridgette charged in, jumping all over the bed and us in the process. Rachel and I shrieked out cusses and kicked at the rowdy lot.

What kind of animal could possibly have this much energy at 7:30am?

Dad called off his dogs to look at his handiwork. Jack at his side, my Dad grinned. Memorable wrinkles folded around the corners of his eyes, eyes that had seen much laughter.

Rachel and I exchanged furious glances, the twins leaping off the bed with echoing howls, to hide behind Dad. A wise decision.

"You said five minutes." He shrugged a shoulder, his hands resting on his hips. "Now hurry up and get ready, I'll drive yaws to school."

After the sleep I had I'd rather ride a unicycle over a rode covered in potholes than leave my bed.

But, in a drowsy state of mind, Rachel and I lethargically prepared as instructed. It was a routine morning, Dad up at 4:30 sharp, going haywire. The twins abnormally hyper, screeching as they ran about. Jack calmly following Dad wherever he went, happily absorbing the excitement around him.

I was the last to get up, which I didn't mind most of the time. I got to use the bathroom as long as I wished, since everyone had already done what was needed.

Grimly, I pulled a navy t-shirt out of my closet, followed by a pair of distraught blue jeans and a high necked grey thermal. I brought on the layers grey beneath blue, holding my jeans up with a studded belt I'd stolen from Rachel.

I was glad for the dual sinks in our bathroom, Rachel and I finished brushing our teeth and washing up quickly.

Going through each others makeup, I drew thick lines of black around my eyes. I always finished before Rachel; I never really felt the need to put on much makeup.

But did I admire her work: the curling of lashes, the padding on of foundation, flawless swipe of eye shadow over her lids.

With the precision of a true artist, she dabbed bright pink circles on her cheeks. Rachel finished off her masterpiece with the gentle application of bright red lip gloss.

She played with her hair, curling pretty tresses into her long hair, adding in violet extensions to match her top. I ran a thickly toothed brush through mine, allowing it to form whatever style it chose to.

I listened to Rachel's grumbled scolding all the way downstairs.

The entire lower floor smelt of blueberry pancakes, my mouth watering. We raced into the kitchen, where Jack stood with his head deep in his food bowls.

Dad poured four tall glasses of milk, all the while sipping at his coffee, flipping pancakes and making lunches. I marvelled at his ability to multi-task.

And the twins ate French Toast Crunch gluttonously from small, colourful bowls. Their eyes glued almost trance-like to the small television hanging on the wall.

By the time we'd taken our seats at the long table Dad was slapping pancakes down on our plates. I gazed at the contorted piece of…well, work that carried sweet smelling lilacs.

Another little knickknack of our Father's.

While I poured syrup over both mine and Rachel's pancakes, she stared at the TV. Watching Sylvester the Cat make attempts and catching Tweetie Bird. Rachel's mouth hung open just like the twins', the three of them rarely blinked they were so captivated.

Dad lifted rather than drew his chair back, as to not disturb the group of brainwashed zombies.

Emerrett Tinker. He stood at least six foot one, maybe two; point of the matter, Dad was not a little man. He was more of a building with feet.

He was forty-nine as of last month, but he did not look it. He was, what my Mother would call, a beautiful specimen of a man.

The only sign that showed his age was his eyes. Great blue-grey eyes, that told stories of every genre. They held within them a fantastic amount of sorrow, as well as a swelling portion of love and affection.

Shielded by rectangular glasses, the brown frame hugging his face, yet they always somehow found a way to slip down his nose.

His eyes, and sometimes his right knee, damaged forever by a terrible football episode in high school.

Around those eyes, were lovely features. A warm, yet subtle smirk was always in place beneath a slightly crooked nose – broken in a skirmish long ago.

My Father did not have classic features as I did, but they were time-honoured features nonetheless.

His hair, somewhat unsure of whether it wanted to be relaxed and shaggy, or neat and refined, showed long streaks of grey. I didn't think it made a great deal difference, but it certainly showed.

I didn't look like my Father at all, but nearly all our family said I was the most like him. I had my Mother's face, and my Father's personality.

Which I didn't think to be a bad thing, he was awesome after all. Although, there were a few dissimilarities. I had never, ever heard my Father raise his voice – to anyone. I on the other hand screamed at Stalon, Elliot and Bridgette on a regular basis.

And Dad had this thing about him; he was just so calm and witty. At all our family gatherings he could always shut Auntie Maria, as well as Grandpa Griffith up with a single phrase.

After which his habitual smirk always came into play.

Dad never "lost his cool," so to speak. Even when Mom left, he just seemed to look down at his wristwatch, pat Jack on the head, sit and read the newspaper like nothing had happened. I didn't think there was a situation that could make him blow his top.

I on the other hand, well, I wasn't quite as emotionally check as he was. To this day I could crawl into his lap in his chair and bawl my eyes out for hours on end.

And he would sit with me, simply petting my hair and promising that everything would be okay.

I never told anyone that, I mean, what sixteen-year-old still hides behind her Daddy?

On another note, I couldn't recall an instant where he'd ever hit us. I remembered when Rachel would get spankings, she always ran away here.

Dad always seemed to have this way of looking at you, and talking so sternly that you truly believed he was going to wear you out to nothing. But he'd never given me a spanking, or Elliot and Bridgette – no matter how much I wanted him to.

Actually, he'd given Uncle Andy hell for yelling at me. Of course, Uncle Andy had shouted me into tears, so I figured he deserved it.

I on the other hand, gave the twins a beating whenever I got the chance to.

"You working late tonight?" I asked gently, after he'd finished his coffee and first pancake.

He linked his fingers, resting his chin down on them, elbows on the table edge as he raised a brow at me. I caught the corner of his mouth tilting.

"That boy coming over?" He responded, baring his teeth as he smiled widely. I willed my cheeks not to redden, turning my eyes down to the last quarter of splotchy, syrupy dough on my plate.

I was silent, counting the blue spots in my pancake, when he sighed. "Yes, I'm working late." His voice held a strong distaste.

I worked my hardest not to seem too excited, swallowing audibly I tilted my head to the right. "Oh," I breathed nonchalantly.

The conversation had struck Rachel's interest, her fork and knife clashing on the porcelain plate. Her foot tapped against mine beneath the table, my eyes flickering over to meet hers.

"I'm working, but your Aunt will be here." His distaste had become sheer disgust. My Father's eyes were alight with a new story, a story I knew and the twins did not. A story about a woman who looked very much like our Mother.

That comment collected everyone's attention, Elliot looking at Dad as if he'd just said the Devil was coming over – oh wait! He did.

Bridgette fidgeted uncomfortably, unable to withhold a whiny groan. "She's awful Daddy."

He chuckled, nodding to himself instead of remarking upon Bridgette's statement.

"Don't–don't say that about people Beach, it's not nice." He finally chastised her, Bridgette merely making a face into her empty bowl.

"When's she gunna be here Emerrett?" Rachel spoke up for the first time. When discussing a woman such as Aunt Maria, the formal respect for one another was dropped, and we all became the savages she claimed we were.

My Father tilted his head to the right thoughtfully, pouring himself another glass of coffee before answering. "Well, sometime around 5:30 I assume, maybe 6:00 if we're lucky."

We all cracked a little smile at his humour, as it was custom.

He looked at me now, pushing his glasses back into place with the back of his hand. "Now, we better be going if you plan to be on time."

Sluggishly now, we all returned to the morning rush. Though Elliot and Bridgette had entirely lost their enthusiasm – which, on any other day I would have found highly amusing. However, the joy evaded me.

I hadn't been close to Aunt Maria, and that detachment had enlarged the day she slept with my Father. Now she had to intrude on the only night I could have Stalon to myself. The one night that he promised he would come.

Everyone moved as if they were underwater slowly, mechanically. Even Jack had lost his spunk, although he always got a little depressed when we left him at home.

I was sure if Dad was allowed a dog in court, he would take Jack with him to do whatever it is lawyers do.

We slid into the van robotically, heading off in silence. Dad waved obliviously to the few neighbours up at this hour. Mrs. Pearson gave us a terse wave in return, before tending to her fallen ornaments.

I wondered stupidly for a moment, then it donned on me what had happened. It had been here, the Thing, it was here last night. It had knocked over Mrs. Pearson's silly flamingos and it had been here.

In the front seat, I slid my feet from the dashboard, looking up at Dad and then into the back seat at Rachel.

My Father's reaction was brief; his eyes widened a moment, his body stiffening. While Rachel looked like a crisp bed sheet, she was petrified.

I shuffled on the leathery seat, thinking that the van had become too comfortable. That things were just _too warm_.

I reached out to turn down the heat, quickly grasping that it wasn't even on. My hand fell down to my thighs, while I scuffled over to lean into Dad's shoulder.

He kissed my hair, and I closed my eyes, permitting myself to drift into the unforgettable comfort of his cotton sweater.

"Harls." It was Rachel's voice.

I jerked awake, glancing around the cosy vastness of the van. "Sorry." I mumbled, grabbing my bag and pushing the door open.

Dad gripped my arm, looking me firmly in the eyes. "I know how you must feel about your Aunt coming here again. And I understand if you're still upset with me for it, but sweetie I-"

I interrupted with a sleepy smile. "It's okay Daddy, I'm not Mom." Now something broke in his eyes, I could see it, the sudden tear that I'd opened. He released my arm, forcing his grin.

"I'll see you when I get home." Was all he was able to say, before he leaned back into his seat and I closed my door.

Rachel and I were greeted inside by Michael who presented another newspaper. They were really shooting those babies out whenever they got the chance.

"Check it out Harls; it was in your division." Michael said this as if it weren't something that terrified me. Both Rach and I nodded curtly, avoiding the picture on the front page.

But I caught a glimpse. It was all I needed.

I'd never be tackled by Thor ever again.

Sliding around him, I walked down the hall, listening to Rachel chew him out the whole way. My books thundered into my locker, pages flapping as I threw my bag on top of them.

Rubbing my face, I willed away the persistent sleep that floated about me like a dull fog.

Rachel and I shared a locker, my shelf was the larger of the two but she didn't mind. Rachel is much more organized than me. Somehow she can fit all of her books into that small cubby, and still had room for her gigantic makeup bag.

We stumbled down the hall, pushing through hoards of grade nines. They seemed to have this unstoppable urge to stand uselessly in the middle of the foyer.

There was much talk of the accident last night. Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Black were just falling apart; Thor was their baby since they had no children. I'd never seen a dog taken care of so well before.

My stomach murmured, grumbling it's grief to those who could hear it. I pressed the spine of my science book into my gut, causing little pain in order to ignore a greater one.

Mrs. Stewart didn't look the least surprised to see us file in late. I took my seat behind Rachel and Michael, peeking through a choppy layer of purple over at the empty seat beside me.

I'd learned not to ask why Stalon skipped school some days; he wasn't going to tell me why anyways. So now I just covered for him, he would be sick today, I decided.

Mrs. Stewart began to draw some form of diagram on the board. Her writing was never quite legible, but none of us had the nerve to point it out.

Mrs. Stewart was a small, lean lady. She was a dancer; her and her daughter practically lived in a studio. We had on-calls all the time because she went all over the place for recitals.

She couldn't have been more than thirty-one, maybe thirty-two at best. Although, with her blonde highlights and her never-wear-the-same-outfit-twice attitude, she could probably pull of twenty-five if she tried.

Rachel hates her, but I don't think she's quite as bad as we all made her out to be. She could be alright sometimes.

The bell yowled, echoing in the long hallways. With it's passing Mrs. Stewart began her lesson, rapping noisily on the board with a long pointer-stick.

Resting my chin on my binder, I turned my gaze out the window. The clouds churned above the green below, cottony white overcome by menacing grey. Trees shuddered, their leaves curling as if they were cold.

The only thing that stood still out there were the mountains. Crisp, serrated tops so tall and unmoving I was sure, had they the ability, they would have been waving their long snow sheathed arms.

It looked like rain was on it's way.

Mother Nature probably heard that Auntie Maria was coming to town.

Science was slow; it felt like this one class had taken up the entire day. The bell rang, signalling our freedom, the whole class running for the door.

I collected my things and made my way without Rachel and Michael to art. It was the one class I actually enjoyed my teacher, Miss Thompson, was so crazy.

We had days where she just sat us all in front of canvases and ordered us to create. I loved free expression.

Today was one of those days; Miss Thompson was sucking at a huge can of _Jolt_ when we came in. Paint brushes lie in uncountable amounts across the north counter top, cans and bottles of paint stood beside each canvas that was set up.

Miss Thompson's lesson was short consisting of the flailing of her arms, the flipping of her messy black curls and the demand that we make her proud.

There was art everywhere in the class, pastel drawings lined walls from floor to ceiling. The south wall itself was a monstrous oil painting of the school, and the floor tiles were doused in numerous colours.

Miss Thompson was an eccentric woman; it was common for us to see her hoping and hollering about the classroom. She was so kind and so fun, she seemed to emit this kind of aura that just made you so comfortable.

She wasn't the kind of art teacher that loomed over your shoulder and pointed out what was wrong with your work. She loved all that we did, discovering the beauty in the most ugly of things.

Miss Thompson was the kind of woman my Father called an oddball.

With her long, pencil straight, neon bright dresses that hung off her tall figure. And her lack of shoes at all times, her long wavy, unruly oil black hair. Her plentiful bracelets that clattered together whenever she moved.

She was the spitting image of a hippy.

Many students thought she was a drug addict, that she was just high all the time. I though she just saw the brightest side of everything, and if there wasn't one she made her own.

If Miss Thompson didn't have a boyfriend, wasn't twenty-three and not my teacher, I would hook her up with Dad.

Everything was perfect; I said good morning and cheerily took my seat in the middle of the class, nearest to the window. I squeezed a few colours on to a palate, gathering a handful of brushes.

"Good morning." Said a familiar voice.

I frowned up at Gabriel Sinclair, watching as he took a seat beside me. A growl stirred in my throat; wordlessly I turned back to my blank, milk white canvas.

He laughed, "Perhaps not then." Gabriel gently flattened a tube of red paint pressing out a swirl of dark claret.

I began painting, making rough strokes and hard, even lines. The textures varied in this medium, smooth and violent as I tried to recreate what had passed.

"What happened to your neck?" Gabriel asked after an extensive period of tranquil silence. I reached for the collar of my grey thermal, drawing it up high over the square of gauze.

"Nothing," I lied easily, without ever glancing over at him. I focused hard on my work, ignoring the whisper of a snicker that snuck from Gabriel's lips.

Laughter and talk filled the room as it did any other day. Miss Thompson busying herself by traveling around the room, looking out the window with little interest, she wove through the rows of canvases peeking at our work, then back to the window.

I watched her a moment, make the same route at least a dozen times before I returned to painting. My wrist rolled and jerked, my eyes decisive and unmoving as I replayed the same picture in my mind.

It wasn't until Miss Thompson had jumped up behind me and gasped. "Oh Harley!" She cried, drawing eyes to my production, my face burned red as I continued to paint although the purpose had been removed.

"It's beautiful!" Miss Thompson clapped, "May I keep it when you're finished?" She appeared childlike, as if she was asking me if she could open an early Christmas present.

"Yes, if you would like." I nodded a fraction, looking sheepishly at her from beneath my lashes.

Miss Thompson sighed gleefully, skipping away back down the aisle of paintings. I could feel black eyes moving over my skin, and I hurried a look over at Gabriel.

He rubbed his chin, too amused to be thinking anything good. His eyes however, moved over my work a low, ominous chuckle rolling over his tongue the way silk whispered over bare skin.

"What?" There was much hostility to my words, this seemed to appeal to his attention and his boundless eyes met mine. Gabriel smirked, fluently dragging his fingers through his dark hair.

"I am in awe; I did not realize you had such a gift." His lips twisted as if to stifle a wide smile. "It is a very…lovely creature."

Resting my brush down I turned back to the portrait, biting down on my lip. Brown locks bristled around the animal's enormous head, the splash of white illumination it's eyes.

I ran my fingertips over the long, white tipped ears of the wolf from my dream. I shivered, remembering the smell of doggy breath, shaking my head.

For the first time since he got here, I peeked at Gabriel's painting, a squeal cracking against the roof of my mouth. He looked at me sharply, smirking in the most demented of ways.

My skin crawled as if it were going to peel off. Leaping from my seat I nearly sprinted from the room, sneaking from the classroom to sit in the hall.

I scrubbed at my eyes, despite the recollection of the eyeliner I wore. Making vicious attempt to rid myself of the fat yellow snake, that lay coiled in a heap on Gabriel's canvas.

It didn't surprise me that Miss Thompson hadn't come looking for me. I'd slunk out of her class many a time, usually I returned minutes after. However, today I had no interest in doing so.

Lunch came shortly, as did Rachel's onslaught the instant she saw I'd been walking around in public, with makeup smeared halfway across my face.

She yanked me into the bathroom after retrieving her huge bag of goodies. I sat on the counter, not feeling up to objecting to her assault.

Her delicate hands wiped and brushed, dabbed and blended. After a good ten minutes she had me back to looking human.

"Now, what's wrong?" There was no getting by Rachel, she knew me too well.

Shudders consumed me, my palms stroking up and down my arms to keep warm. "N-nothing, don't worry, I just have a little headache. It's no big deal."

She did not seem at all convinced of this, her auburn eyes like lasers over the rims of her glasses. I strained to smile, sucking in the deep breaths I'd been unable to take in my dream.

I eluded Gabriel Sinclair for the rest of the day. Via ducking into classrooms that I did not belong to, sitting beside Jeremy in English, and waiting at the edge of the school property for the city bus.

Once I was home I pondered locking the twins out of the house, then, figured it wasn't the same since it wasn't winter. Jack remained in his state of depression. Obviously he was just as excited as I was about Dad's news this morning either.

I showered quickly, dressing in my favourite track pants and one of Dad's t-shirts – I was a legend for making and impression on Maria.

After gobbling up half the roll of chocolate chip cookie dough I chopped off small bits. Then lathered a cookie sheet in _PAM, _stuck the remainders on and shoved them into the oven.

I was eating out of a tub of ice cream when Bridgette stormed in. My sister stomping her feet and screeching at the top of her lungs. Jack howled in harmony with her.

Now, I had been trained to kiss a boo-boo, call 911, use the pooper-scooper and call Dad when things got out of hand. Today, however, I'd had enough. If anyone deserved to cry about anything it was me.

Bridgette looked at me, teary eyed and red in the face, her red curls hair torn out of the pig-tails, they'd been in so lopsidedly this morning. Her lips were puckered and juddering, her hands in tight round fists at her sides.

"What?" I snapped after she'd stood there gawking at me for a minute.

"D-Dylan pull-l-l-l-led my hair a-a-a-and he's beating up Eliot!" Her last few words crashed on my ears in a high-pitched wail.

I slammed the tub down on the counter, jumping off and sprinting out the door, Jack and Bridgette trailing behind me.

"Hey!" I shouted, grumbling a chain of profanities as I crossed the street.

My brother scrambled to his feet, prodding his bloody lip and wiping at his swollen eyes. Dylan Twine looked at me, dropping his blood splattered fist.

Elliot and Bridgette had grown up with Dylan Twine, but he was three years their senior. He was plump and vulgar and certainly didn't look like a twelve-year-old – kid was my height for crying out loud!

Dad always told us how much trouble the Twine boys had been in over the years. Twice he'd seen the eldest – Brody – in court.

Their Father usually had something to say about how our Mother had run away. And their Mom was always off with her physical trainer, so she never had to say much.

It was easy to tell how they lived just by glancing at the yard. Their four dogs' "business" littered the yellow grass, nursing the dandelions that sprouted up in them.

Their shutters were black with age although they'd once been green. The house itself was something that could easily pass for a hobo shack.

I'd beaten on Dylan Twine and his two brothers multiple times. Broken a knuckle because of Jason's braces too.

After all, who did they think they were? I was the only one who got to bully Elliot and Bridgette.

Elliot scampered around behind me, joining Bridgette and a growling Jack.

Dylan chuckled, his whole body shuddering with it. "You baby, hidin' behind your sister – coward."

Elliot gripped the base of my t-shirt, I gnashed my teeth together. "I told you to leave them alone."

"Yeah, and my Daddy told me your Mom'sa whore." Dylan lifted his chins, baring a row of overlapping teeth.

Teeth that soon collided with my fist.

It felt good hitting something, and Dylan's face had the cushioning his brothers did not. My left hand hurt after a while, and I was thankful to have to arms.

Jack barked behind me but the noise, though he was close, sounded far-off. I couldn't hear anything but the abrupt _smack_ of flesh pounding against flesh. Dylan's shouting seemingly low though I could guess he was shrieking.

I saw nothing but the body below me, the pavement beneath him, and the blood that coated my forearms.

Hands fit under my armpits, jerking me off and back. For an instant I was no longer here and I reeled around to punch Stalon in the mouth.

He looked at me a moment, swabbing the blood from his chin, not pausing to flinch or even blink.

Sound came then.

Jack's barks had become feral, his pink gums showing, white jaws stabbing out from behind his curled lips.

Elliot was saying something that I didn't quite hear, and Bridgette was staring at me with her wide horror-struck eyes.

Raspy, insistent breaths flooded into my ears. My chest stung with the sharp intakes, my lips dry and my throat burning.

My fingers throbbed in pain, trembling. My knuckles were showing bright, angry red, cracked and ripped in places that caused me to wince.

Sanity, it seemed, returned slowly, vanquishing the wild aggression that had once clouded my entire being.

My eyes traveled at a speed that I never could have imagined, between Dylan's groaning, rolling body and Stalon. I glanced at Elliot's puffy mouth his squinted, bloodshot eyes.

Stalon reached out to take my arm, and I slapped his hand away whirling around to take another swipe at Dylan. The moment I'd come in range to drive my foot into his ribcage a strong, unbreakable grip closed on my biceps.

"You stay the fuck away from them you hear!" I screamed, too tired to wrestle out of Stalon's hands. Dylan only moaned in response, gradually creeping to his feet.

He spun me round, taking me under his arm like a football. In the blur of houses, trees and pavement, I saw Clayton at the edge of his lawn; his eyes wide as they followed us all the way back inside the house.

Jack was still snarling once we were inside, Bridgette trying to calm him to no avail. Stalon shot the husky a harsh glare, silencing him almost immediately.

Wordlessly, Stalon sat the four of us in the large bathroom. Pinching a small disinfectant swab over Elliot's lip, smiling and promising that'd heal in a few days.

Elliot looked at me from under his thick, round bangs before he turned and sprint from the room, Bridgette chasing eagerly after him.

"Give me your hands," Were the first words out of his mouth.

Sitting on the cold tiles, he rummaged through the first aid kit, dampening a few cotton balls in a solution I didn't know. Stalon crawled on his knees over to the big square bathtub, stealing a beige face cloth.

He doused it in hot water, folding the steaming fabric over his fingers. I gasped at the feel of burning wet on my open skin, squirming uncomfortably on the lid of the toilet.

With a sigh and an exhausted expression he washed away the blood that did not belong to me. Soon revealing the raw, wine-coloured flesh of sore knuckles.

"This might sting." He murmured, his quiet voice but a breath. My fingers twitched in anticipation, watching with squinted eyes as he raised the blue coloured cotton ball.

Stalon's eyes met mine, and he gently raced the wet fluff over my torn skin. I squeezed his fingers, feeling the inescapable burn of antiseptic run into my wounds.

"That boy, he did that to Elliot's face?" He asked, returning the small rectangular kit back into the cabinet beneath the glass bowl of a sink.

I nodded, gulping back angry tears. "I should have killed him." Stalon grinned, pulling his fingers through the mess of his white hair. "It looked like you were going to."

I looked down at my hands, still shaking. Then I watched as Stalon lifted the stained cloth to my forearms, scrubbing off dried splashes of crimson.

"How did you know to do all this?" I asked admiringly, the faint hairs on my arms rising. Stalon tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders softly.

"Captain of the rugby team, I've seen worse. Since Mr. West doesn't know a first aid kit from a powdered doughnut, I do most of the dirty work." He made a face to emphasise this, I could see the broken fingers and lost teeth behind his eyes and shuddered.

I shook my head, "That's not right." Though he was right, if a first aid kit were round I was sure Mr. West would try to take a nibble at it.

"No, but you'd rather have your shoulder shoved back into place than get off the field." The gore in his eyes was replaced by a nostalgia I didn't wish to follow, Stalon's soft grin widening.

Stretching my fingers I grimaced, hearing a quiet ding downstairs. I was confused for a moment before it hit me, "The cookies!" I gasped.

I pushed by Stalon, racing down the stairs to slide into the kitchen. My fingers ached as I thrust them into Dad's Christmas oven mitts. The material that had once been spongy now scraped painfully over my knuckles.

Grabbing at the tray I slapped it down atop the glass oven top, switching the oven off and, yanked the gloves off as quickly as possible.

"You baked?" Stalon sounded incredulous and I frowned at him, I opened my mouth to brag but found myself blushing instead.

"_Pillsbury_." I mumbled under my breath, listening to the laughter he struggled to hide.

Cautiously I snatched a large cookie from the tray, whimpering at it's searing bottom. "Try them." Stalon looked at me hesitantly and I scoffed, "I haven't poisoned this batch don't worry."

He smiled slightly, taking the misshapen cookie from my palm. He looked at me from the corners of his eyes, biting into it warily. I snickered when it broke; his big hand causing him to drive his nose into a fat chocolate chip.

Stalon's brown and blue eyes crossed, to look at the brown daub at the tip of his nose. Rolling on to my tiptoes, I staggered forward, holding his face in place as I kissed away the chocolate.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his brown lashes curled beneath the layer of tight wrinkles.

I licked my lip, cursing the heat that had begun to climb the nape of my neck.

Blinking leisurely, Stalon's eyes softened reminding me of russet sand on a dark watered beach. His hand slipped slowly atop the counter ledge, pushing back the Rudolf oven mitts


	5. Chapter Five

I pulled him in, upsettingly hindered by the edge of the countertop. My fingers loosened on the collar of his white t-shirt, the fabric familiar to my fingers.

It was difficult to focus with so much going on.

My palms strained to tell the difference from seasoned t-shirt, warm bare skin and, soft feathery curls of baby hairs at back of his neck.

There was the rush of boiling blood in my ears, bubbling about in my head as if I was under water. Every part of me ached, electrified, skin tightened with pining Goosebumps.

Every bit of my senses wailed to get closer, closer, as close as was physically possible.

I rolled my weight to his shoulders, no longer needing the counter's aid, and wrapped my legs securely around the rough material of a leather belt and jeans.

I could feel the movement, but it was much too fast. And by the time I had my eyes open we were _thwap_ing down into the well-warn, scarlet cushions of the long living room couch.

Jack made a subtle, anxious whistle through his damp bronzed nose. I reached for a tighter grasp of white hair, ignoring him. Seldom did Stalon let me kiss him like this, so Jack could just put his big paws over his eyes.

Then came a sharper, voluble half-bark. I sighed, not wanting to admit defeat to my PG13 hating dog. When came a sound I hadn't heard before, a sound that had Jack in utter silence.

It rolled fluently in the back of Stalon's throat, though I'd felt it awaken in his chest. Unfortunately, though it had put Jack's apprehensive advances to an end, it also put our kiss to a painfully abrupt conclusion as well.

Stalon blinked, his eyes wide with astonishment. His right hand disappeared from where it had been so dominantly on the, now exposed, skin of my waist.

Then his left removed my hands from where they were firmly buried in his hair, placing them at my sides.

Had he not looked quite so unbelievably bewildered, I would have reached new heights of disappointment. But my laughter came first; I brushed bright hairs from my eyes. "Did-did you just growl?"

Stalon's face shot four shades of pink before; finally, a vibrant rouge had taken form across his cheeks. He'd been prepared to scurry away, but I wasn't going to let Jack win the war just yet.

Tangling my legs through his, I grabbed the base of Stalon's t-shirt, hanging so generously in range. As I began to pull it up Stalon began to protest.

"Harley." It was cautionary, his words.

Smirking I looked jubilantly into his eyes. "Not touching you, can't get mad!" I announced, inching his shirt up to my heart's content.

Now he couldn't help smiling, "Really?" He'd indented to present a serious question but his voice was uncontrollably droll.

He'd let me take it to his shoulders before intervening. In about three in-a-half seconds Stalon tore my hands from his clothes and pinned my wrists above my head. My fingers twitched, dangling in the cool air off the edge of the couch.

"That's not fair," I made a note of dramatizing my pout, twinkling eyes and all. Stalon rolled his lovely eyes at me. "You're stronger than me, this is a one-sided fight."

His eyes flickered up in mock consideration of my words. "Yes, it is, and I think I'll milk it." I felt the shift of his two hands becoming one, still effortlessly detaining mine.

Stalon's hand slid beneath me, my eyes bulging. "Don't." It was a plea in vain, and I squealed as his fingertips traveled up my spine, crossing the tenderest and most ticklish places agonizingly slow.

Squirming, I regretted weaving my legs through his, given that now they could not be used to kick him off.

My eyes were watering when at last he stopped. The delighted humour that had once been on his face dribbled away like fresh paint.

At first I took pleasure in the fact that I could breathe again, the fine hairs on my back becoming acutely aware of his palm on my skin.

I realized then, how thin the material carrying my bra clasps was. Although his fingers uncertainly idled there, I could only think of how warm Stalon's hand was.

How when they fingered that same three-hooked piece it tickled.

His face lowered to mine, close enough that I hoped he was going to kiss me. I couldn't gauge how badly I wanted him to.

To my dismay, Stalon's forehead only rested against mine. His white hair now thin, golden sparks from the sunlight that poured in through the lengthy windows.

When I leaned back into his hand, sinking further into the cushions he grinned. "Don't tempt me." His smile reflected the absurdity of the situation. But, before he closed his eyes I caught the hunger there that almost made me shudder.

I tilted my head, looking up at his closed lids from the corners of my eyes. I opened my mouth to speak but the words stopped on the lime green bulb that was my tongue ring, refusing to go any further.

While I swallowed loudly Stalon's brows came together gently against mine. "Do you love me?" It was supposed to be unyielding and staid, like it was in my head. But the question came out as a doubtful whisper.

Stalon opened his eyes, and I saw the answer there.

He didn't speak but nodded his head, his sapphire eye replicating the sincerity of promising, clear waters. While the hard golden-brown liquidated into the thick russet curls of caramel.

Inside I demanded that he say it aloud, that he say it to me and mean it. When the other, smaller, quieter portion of me said: _baby steps, Harley, no need to rush._

So I smiled due to a lack of words.

Stalon's hand released my wrist, his other my bra, and he sat us up crawling back to give me room.

"I brought you something." And just as easily as my question had come, he smothered it.

A frown pulled on the corners of my mouth, I shunned them. How could I be angry? One small step for man, right?

I tilted my head watching as he leaned away from the couch to reach into his pocket. I was surprised it had survived in there at all.

Stalon told me to open my hands, I obliged curiously. The instant his hand covered mine something cold landed in my palms. The veil of his fingers slipped away, revealing to me a long, gorgeous necklace.

The silver chain shimmered in the late afternoon light, casting rainbows off of the gem curled below it. My eyes bugged, and I turned it over in my fingers.

"A wolf?" I asked, my voice robotic, as all my emotion had gone into gawking at it.

The small figurine twinkled a million colours; it was just the large head of the crystalline creature. Despite's it's diminutive size, the layers of fur had been carved masterfully. As was it's distinct little face, tilted back as if to bay at the moon.

"Err, it belonged to my great grandmother." Stalon cocked his head to one side, shinning rainbows splashing out across his face in the light.

My eyes flickered to meet his, although they'd grown distant, almost wistful. I smirked at the chance to catch him off guard, creeping forward to pounce.

Stalon reacted a fraction of a second too late, and before he could get his large hands up to deter me I'd crawled into his lap. His hands rested on my hips, my arms wound around his broad shoulders, face buried in his neck.

"Thanks." I felt him smile into my t-shirt.

"Are you going to let me put it on?"

My face flushed, leaning back into the bouncy cushions of the couch. The twirling chain slithered coldly out from between my fingers. The center of my palm still felt heavy from where the necklace had once been.

Stalon cleared his throat straightening the series of tiny knots in the slim chain. He brought it to my throat, then, his eyes bulged.

"Wh-what happened?" My necklace fell into the creases of the couch, but before I could grab for it Stalon's fingers were tilting my head back.

I chewed on my lip, squeezing my eyes shut as the horrid memory of his hands around my throat flooded back mercilessly. Had my hands not begun their vicious throbbing again, I think I might have tried to push him away.

"I fainted in the shower, it's nothing." His eyes told me my words had not even touched his ears.

Stalon's brows started to close in on each other, his lovely eyes narrowing angrily. "_Who did this_?" I flinched at the sudden change in his voice, callous and sharp.

I took his hands, pushing them down into his lap. No matter how I moved, or tried to get his attention, Stalon's eyes followed the faded markings.

He opened his mouth, looking at me from the corners of his eyes.

Soft, evil giggles tangled Stalon's tongue. I had expected to see Dad in the doorway – too many times that had happened.

Instead, there stood my Aunt, behind her crouched my two snickering siblings. My heart pounded in my ears, Maria's gaze searing through mine and out the other side of my skull.

"Where's your Father?" She demanded, not allowing me to respond. "Not here. Why _doesn't_ that surprise me?"

I clenched my teeth together vehemently, squeezing Stalon's fingers. His big thumb pressing circles into the backs of my hands.

Maria wasn't my Mother.

Although she had her smooth oval face and timeless features. And her hair was the same, shoulder length strawberry red hair. Her eyes were green and round, but did not have the same animation.

She was thin, standing between being too tall and too short. Unlike my Mother, she wore snug dresses that made her figure look lean and curvaceous.

Maria was ice, and Mom was fire.

Maria was a cold-hearted, back-stabbing gossip, who felt the need to poke her ugly rat face into our family's business.

My Mother or, Annett, was the most vibrant, frivolous person I'd ever met in my life. Which was odd, considering how laid-back and unperturbed my Father is.

But she was beautiful and flawless in every imperfect way.

She was the one who painted my room, all the colours of autumn captured just for me.

It was times like these, when I saw Aunt Maria, that I _needed _to know why Mom had left us.

Just packed her bags and…left us.

Aunt Maria click-clacked toward the couch, gazing down at where my hands rested in Stalon's lap. She pointed one of her long, glossy rose nails at him and glowered at me.

"Who's this?" She said this, but I heard Dylan – _you whoreing around, just like your Mom!_

I wasn't sure what I was going to do to her. But it wasn't pleasant. Stalon's hands clamped down on my shoulders, shoving me further into the couch.

"Stalon Piece ma'am." He answered chivalrously, as he always did.

"Suppose your Father has no idea he's here." Maria snapped. Her cold eyes examining Stalon, the way a crazy doctor would inspect her next experimentation victim.

"Of course he does!" I cried, lunging at him and climbing into his lap in the most inappropriate way I could muster, locking my fingers in his hair. "Stalon's spending the night!"

Maria's eyes widened, her gasp seeming to echo in the strained silence I'd created. Though it was quiet and disapproving, Stalon chuckled, circling his thick arms around me to pull me closer.

The twins snickered, Maria looking as if she just might stomp her foot and go tattle on me. Instead she glared harder, if that was possible, and said: "We'll see about that."

We waited for her to leave, and then I shot my secreted enmity at the twins, who ran squealing from the room.

Stalon pushed me back a little, far enough that he could cram his long fingers between the edges of the cushions to save my necklace.

I listened to the faint snap of the clasp, shivering at the sudden weight around my throat.

It was longer than I'd originally assumed. Had Rachel been wearing it I was certain it would have fallen into the abyss of her cleavage. Sadly, I had no such thing.

Stalon's fingertips traced the yellowing hands around my neck.

"You fainted in the shower?" He questioned with the same disbelief as an FBI detective, like he'd found my peculiar fingerprints on the vault in a bank. All that was missing was the bright light beaming down blindingly on my face.

When I nodded his lips twitched with dissatisfaction. "Then who did this? Rachel?"

I made a face at his accusation, shifting uncomfortably in his legs. "No. It-it just kind of…happened. I was all wrapped up in the shower curtain, knowing me I probably did it myself."

I'd made my voice light in an attempt to revive his humour. Instead Stalon's eyes briefly touched mine, bearing the glow of scrutiny.

But he touched my cheek, his palm warm and he smiled. "Probably." Stalon whispered a laugh, "Yes, I should have suspected that. You would be prone to some form of suicidal stupidity."

I slapped him on the arm, glad to have some form of my boyfriend back with me. Stalon's smile faded quickly then, his eyes flickering over his shoulder before he cleared his throat.

"Your Aunt thinks me to be some kind of defiler of innocence." He murmured with a broad smirk, I laughed.

"No doubt." When I looked beyond him though, I could see nothing but the empty passage into the kitchen. "Try growling at her, maybe you can scare her off."

Stalon rolled his eyes, blinking back his bright blush.

"Are you staying tonight, honest?" I didn't look at him when asking, watching the rainbows glimmer across my t-shirt. Stalon sighed, and I could hear the cogs clacking in his head, contemplating another excuse.

"Tink." he breathed, I heard the mumble of his fingers moving through his hair. "I don't have anything here, and your Dad has enough to deal with this weekend. I can't just show up and expect his hospitality."

I stuck my bottom lip out. "Rachel does it." Stalon snorted, his gaze moving out the tall windows. "I'm not Rachel."

Grouchily I crossed my arms, glowering at him. "Okay, I'm wearing your track pants and I should have some of your shirts here somewhere."

He grinned, "I thought those were a bit big." He tugged at the old grey fabric nostalgically.

I watched his large fingers move over the soft ripples of my pants, smoothing over the creases, biting my lip.

"Well if you're going, I'm coming." My voice was unwavering. If he thought he was going to leave me here with Maria he had another thing comin'.

Even Dad knew not to make that mistake. Not if he wanted Maria to keep breathing.

Stalon's face was thoughtful, musing silently. I'd never been to his house, well, never inside. Stalon's house was this massive mansion on the very edge of Kamloops, suffocated by tall evergreens.

If it weren't for the great white sign jutting out from the bushes at the end of the drive, no one would ever know it was there. _Piece Manor_ it read in enormous gold engraving.

It'd been there for such a long time, it was almost like it'd grown up out of the ground.

His family – according to Dad – had been there for as far back as he could remember. They were really…isolated people for a long while. And then, after a few years or so, Stalon's family had come to claim the lot.

They were quiet and I'd never ever met his Mother or Father. Stalon described them as a Drill Sergeant and a soft-spoken, sympathetic Chilcotin woman. And that I wasn't something he wanted to share with anyone in the first place.

So, I knew what his answer would be before he'd ever said anything. "No." Stalon shook his head.

"Well can we go get your stuff then?" I insisted, my voice unbearably high.

"Harley-" I interrupted eagerly.

"Please, please, please! Don't leave me here alone – that woman's the Devil!" I whined, waving my arms theatrically. Stalon easily hid his face behind his hands, groaning noisily into his palms.

He peeked wordlessly between the cracks of his fingers. "Your Dad won't mind?"

I held the cushions too keep from bursting. Excited I shook my head, my cheeks throbbing with a huge smile.

Stalon sighed, drawing back from his hands to look at me from beneath his lashes, glancing around the vast living room. "Alright, let's go then."

"Go where?" Maria popped from the kitchen, her eyes narrowed and penetrating. Right, as if she wasn't totally eavesdropping. I grunted, "None of your business."

I grabbed Stalon's forearm as I gathered to my feet. "You're _not _going out in public dressed like that." Aunt Maria's voice was almost panicked. More reason _to_ go out like this.

Stomping into my shoes, I snubbed her. Tuning her voice out the way my Father would my 'whiny,' rock music.

"You could at least put on a more appropriate top." Maria commented, snapping her hip out as she assessed my outfit, her eyes lingering on my Father's shirt.

She was saying something else when we left, but I couldn't catch it all. "….how ridiculous…simply absurd…only Emerrett would let this happen…such a fool."

I wanted to go back in there, I'd show her _simply absurd_! But I was too wound up to let Aunt Maria get any deeper under my skin.

Confused, I followed Stalon back around our house and into the trees. I used to always come back here, somewhere Dad and I had built a fort with a tire swing and all, though, that was before the Thing had come to town.

We'd gone past the first layer of fat bushels and the reaching arms of maturing saplings, when I spoke up. "Where are we even going?"

"There's a short cut." Stalon answered curtly, pacing a few feet ahead of me. Yeah, a short cut that would kill us.

"We shouldn't be back here." I murmured, my eyes on the shadow around us. It wasn't too late in the day yet, although, it sure was dark enough to pass for night fall in here.

Stalon laughed, "Afraid?" He sent a fleeting glance over his shoulder at me, smirking haughtily at my lack of response.

I didn't want to admit that I was a little nervous, he'd never let it go. I did however; hurry my steps up enough that I was nearly on his heels.

What did I think he was going to do? After all, they were saying this animal was at least the size of an adult bear. It's not like Stalon could just growl and send it's on it's way.

Regardless, it felt a hell of a lot better being closer to him than on my own.

I tried to focus more on the tall trees around me, the crackling bracken below, and the mutter of the leaves that swept over my skin.

It smelt like rough, wild outdoors. Like fresh air, tree sap commingled with the breath of the creatures that thrived here. And Stalon looked entirely at peace, like he was walking through the halls at school.

"You're scared." He said after a lengthy space of stillness and I peered up at him in silence.

Stalon smiled, his hand swallowing mine. There was a glint in his eyes, reflecting an abstraction of nostalgia I could not grasp. "I'll protect you."

I wanted to laugh, except, the longer I looked at him, the more I was compelled to believe it.

Blushing, I turned my face away, staring into the obscurity of the trees smothering us. There were multiple paths, crossing this way and that, leading to small burrows and large caverns. Routes visibly used frequently by animals, some prints even lingered in the soft dirt of the forest floor.

"How do you even know where you're going?" I asked, twisting myself to look around. I couldn't see my house anymore – I couldn't see any source of civilization anywhere.

Stalon tilted his head, mulling over his next answer. "I…sometimes, my Father and I go hiking, I know this trail like the back of my hand."

"What trail?" I demanded, looking down, I saw no indication of a footpath. Stalon shrugged his shoulders, "It's kind of just instinct Tink. No one ever really knows where they're going until they get there."

I snorted in opposition. "What about maps or-" Stalon disrupted me.

"Yes, but where's the fun in that? If we were going the wrong way – which we're not – we would end up somewhere else, sure, but not without reason." He said, shaking his head brusquely at me.

I rolled my eyes dramatically, "Destiny? Are you serious?" There was acid on my tongue, more than I had truly meant.

He sighed, "You wouldn't understand." I grimaced, yanking my hand from his. What was there that I couldn't understand? Was he some kind of super human GPS system?

Weren't there enough things about Stalon that I didn't understand?

The silence that dawdled between us, was the kind of choking smog that moved in with the stealth of the Azalea Heights rugby team.

I felt it nipping at the skin of my exposed neck, pinching at the tips of my fingers and, breathing up the long, baggy sleeves of my Father's shirt.

When I looked however, I realized it was not the overwrought fog about us, but rather the night skulking in.

I bit back the shivers that had long since been rocking my body. A bitterness pinched at my features as I leaned into the walking furnace that was Stalon.

He snickered lowly, his broad arms taking me in completely. I felt his lips in my hair, and the fluent breaths that parted them.

"There." Stalon murmured slipping a hand free to point into the distance. I had seen the light, but there were so many small breaks foliage, I never could have seen it from this far while it was so dark.

Though I certainly saw it once we'd stepped into the yard.

The lawn was nothing but lush, long green blades. There were no silly ornaments – at least none of the pink variety – but a single milk white stone birdbath.

Rachel's house was very classic, with it's long porch and picket fence. Stalon's needed no fence, as it had tall, old pines with sharp emerald needles as supplement.

The house itself was constructed of fat suntanned bricks, and swathed in elongated, shimmering windows. Each of which reflected the nearing nights sky beautifully.

For an instant I could have sworn I had seen someone there, gazing through the glass. Then, just as quickly as I had blinked they were gone, leaving nothing of their reality except a flicker of curtain.

I felt Stalon stiffen a moment, his eyes narrowed as he inhaled. "Come this way." His quiet voice was barely audible and I had to lean in order to hear him properly.

His big palm lead me around the large corner of the house, taking us into the back of the yard. There I saw the pretty etching in the white birdbath, standing lonely in the center of the lawn.

It appeared so innocent in comparison to the looming trees, who breathed their ominous shadows around it.

The threat of the forest vanished when we came through the massive glass sunroom off the back of the house. Here it was so warm my hands smouldered and lovely plants blossomed.

It smelt very sweet, like honey. The sudden change from burning outdoor air to cosy greenhouse made my nose ache. The noise Stalon made in the back of his throat made me think I wasn't the only one to felt this.

Stalon's fingers glided gently over the folded violet of one of the hundreds of flowers. They were all the same, or, well, they each looked the same to me.

With their long jade stems, smooth looking lavender petals and, yellow hearts.

"They're so pretty." I murmured, though the voice did not sound like mine. I gazed up at Stalon, whose face had grown remorseful though his eyes showed me no indication of why.

"Mmm, I suppose." He nodded, his words jagged as if he wished for them to stab me with them. Then tore the gorgeous head off one, crushed it in his fist, staring me hard in the eyes when I gasped.

As if he hadn't seen the horror on my face, Stalon kept walking, sweeping through the endless rows of purple. And I pursued him wordlessly, unable to remove the image of his fist from my head.

It was just a flower, yes. But it was the brutality of which he had destroyed it. The simplicity of the act would go completely overlooked had I not known him.

I always knew him to be this placid, hushed creature who I couldn't imagine ever purposely harming anything.

Not even in rugby. Sure it involved a crap load of tackling, and Stalon was a huge guy for seventeen, but I could always tell when he was holding back.

He'd squashed that flower full force.

"Stalon?" It was an unfamiliar voice, belonging to a female. Her voice was muffled well until we'd stepped into a gigantic foyer.

Still, the furniture was as sparse as the yard. The room was made up of a very long table, where an amethyst coloured table cloth lay at rest. A series of candles stood like nobility in the center, black and aged like the short string of the wick.

Then came a tall woman, her hair beyond her shoulders, and the colour of oil. Her skin was the same colour as Stalon's left eye, smooth ripples of caramel.

She was very beautiful. Immediately, I knew this was his Mother. They had the same sort of aura about them; I could feel it when she entered. She carried a sort of gentleness that made me want to hug her on sight.

Despite the deep russet of her skin, and the ebony of her hair, all I could focus on were her eyes. For an instant I could not help but stare – they stood out so vibrantly on her round face.

Bright, wide blue-green eyes. The kind you only saw in fantasies and dreams. They were beautiful, enclosed by a border of thick black lashes.

Her voice was as sweet as the vast greenhouse, and as smooth as the petals of the flowers.

I was starting to rethink Aunt Maria's parting words.

In spite of his abrupt tenseness she came and wrapped her arms around his waist. Then saw me, tiny in contrast to them both, and smiled hugely.

"So you're the infamous Harley Tinker?" She smirked an incredibly memorable smirk and came to hug me. As she did, I tried not to think that she looked like some kind of goddess, and I looked like a boho.

Taking a step back she examined me, glancing periodically over her shoulder at her ridged son. With a quiet laugh she gave my hair a tender tug, "You are beautiful."

My face flushed, blood flying about beneath my skin, awakening a heavy blush. "Th-thank you." I nodded, unable to find anything else to say.

Another door, further in the house closed, Stalon looking even stiffer than before, his shoulders shuddering like he would snap in half any second.

Mrs. Piece winked at me before she sauntered off in another direction, taking Stalon's eyes with her. The instant she'd left the room he seemed to turn on me, his voice nearly as intimidating eyes. "Let's go."

Brusquely, he pushed me on, stepping back to rest his palm on the small of my back. His guidance had become rough, shoving me up the marble stairs as if the floor was becoming lava beneath us.

When we'd come to the top of the stairwell he didn't give me the time to speak, grabbing my elbow and propelling me down another hallway. I swore softly, snatching at the wall to catch myself.

"What's wrong with you?" I hissed. Instead of responding Stalon pushed me through the only door in the hall. I was grateful that it'd been left ajar; he probably would've thrust me right through it if it wasn't.

The suddenness of which he moved came to a sharp close with the slamming of the door. Stalon exhaled, his expression one of blatant relief, with this he smiled at me.

Looking at him from the corners of my eyes, I gazed around the spacious room. The walls appeared black until the sun light, what little of it was left, poured in and they then became something of a wine colour.

The floor was soft beneath my feet, thick white carpet that was probably a lot more comfortable than some beds.

Although, when I did see the bed, I changed my mind. It was massive, easily larger than mine, and doused in plump, squashy looking white pillows.

Pillows that looked totally out of place, seated on a menacing shade of mauve coverlet. The bedding had been torn back, revealing the cream coloured undercoat of a second sheet, which looked surprisingly gentle in comparison to the actual duvet.

My stomach dropped in a fashion that made me want in the worst of ways, to climb into that bed.

I distracted myself, moving my eyes away from the colossal bed. I focused on the rich furnishings instead, on the dresser to my left that looked so much like chocolate I wanted to take a bite out of it.

Then over to the stack upon stack of books to my right, the spines were too worn to even read the title. Paperbacks glistened in the fading light, covered in fat fingerprints.

I sucked in a deep breath, tasting him on everything. The scent was the same wild, austerity of the forest here. It brought me to shiver instinctively, though I'd felt no breeze.

I had never been in Stalon's room before.

The realization made me blush like some dorky school girl.


	6. Chapter Six

My fingers traced the black vines that had been thrown so artistically across the white pillows. I watched Stalon diligently packing his bag, sloppily shoving a pair of torn jeans inside, followed by a grey t-shirt.

"What are you, moving in?" I laughed, catching the faintest of his grins when he peeked up at me.

He didn't answer but said, "It isn't what you expected is it?" He asked quietly, not looking at me when he spoke.

Pursing my lips I looked up at the ceiling, examining the slim ripples of the buttery white paint. "You don't know what I expected."

Actually, that wasn't quite true. I thought I would be sitting on the large front steps outside the house, staring bleakly into the huge headlights of his Father's gigantic black SUV.

A noisy clatter brought my eyes down to where he stood, gathering something from the floor to place inside a glossy silver case. He had shut it before I'd gotten a good look at whatever had fallen out, probably a toothbrush or something.

Stalon put in gently into the side pocket of his bag, yanking on the zipper to close it up. He fled across the room, extracting a pair of blue sweat pants from his drawers.

Examining them, the ragged, aged fabric I decided I would pilfer them when he wasn't looking. I smiled deviously; I must have at least four pairs of track pants and maybe two sweaters that belonged to Stalon.

He never asked me why I took them, and I never told him. They were perhaps the warmest, comfiest pieces of clothing I had. The fact that they never lost his incredible smell was just a consolation prize, for my tactful thievery.

The sound of a crackling zipper brought me back, and he squeezed my calf. "Ready?"

I opened my mouth to answer, a yawn came. Stalon chuckled, "Am I that boring?" When I nodded he smacked my leg, swinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder and shuffling around to the side of the bed.

Blinking I gasped as his arms snaked under me, heaving me up from the bed and to my feet. I fingered the material of his white shirt and grinned, tugging lightly at it, Stalon's lips barely grazing the bridge of my nose.

I leaned back, the edge of his bed promising to catch me. Stalon grunted, standing firmly in place. "Not here." His voice was quiet as always but there was something, a hitch, that allowed a huskier, grating breath to slip over his words.

Hiding my frown, I kept his hand, following him from the room. We crept back down the stairs, no longer was he jostling me along, rather taking slow, leisurely strides.

When we'd entered the foyer again, a man greeted us. Stalon's shoulder pushed me, keeping me back. He nodded a fraction, and the man smiled.

"You're the girl then." The man said, examining me fully and I looked beyond Stalon's shoulder to see it was his Father.

I didn't realize it right away, just when he grinned. Stalon had his Mother's smile, though here was a subtle crookedness to his Father's teeth that was similar to his.

They both spoke very softly, and the more I stared, I saw that Mr. Piece's eyes had the same lovely imperfection. Only his right eye was the smooth caramel and his left was a riot of oceanic blue. Where as, on Stalon, it was reversed.

His hair was shot white around his temples, though the rest remained a thick jolt of brindle. He also had a very abrupt, lumpy curve of a scar from his left eyebrow, angled down over his nose to his sharp cheekbone.

Stalon was about the same height as his father, or maybe half an inch shorter. They both had at least a head and a bit on me. They were the same oxen-like built, and I figured that's where Stalon had gotten it from.

Although, the longer they looked at each other, the larger the sense of disquiet became. There was something almost antagonistic passing between them, in the air about them. It made the hairs along the back of my neck raise, and I tightened my grip on Stalon's hand.

He blinked sharply, "Tink, this is my Father." Stalon spoke quickly. The unease of his tone seeped through my clothes to chafe unnervingly against my skin.

Mr. Piece stepped forward, extending a large hand. "Please, call me Beck." I returned the warmth, drawing my fingers from Stalon's to have my hand swallowed by Beck's.

His grip was firm enough to crush, and I tried not to wince. Beck released me, turning his full attention to Stalon's bag. "Where are you going?"

Stalon lifted his chin with an arrogance I'd never seen in him before. "I'm spending the night at Harley's." It was odd hearing him say my name in that tone, the jagged tone he cut people with.

Beck raised a brow glancing speedily from me to Stalon in a way that said to much. We both scuffled, my face burning in complete mortification, I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Well then," He sounded fatherly and stern. "Perhaps I'll drive you back then." There was no protesting although I could tell Stalon was about to.

Before long we were seated awkwardly in the leathery seats of his dad's SUV. I twiddled my thumbs, watching the silhouettes of the trees flicker by, and the fast flash of streetlight beams racing over the windshield.

There was such a discomfited silence that I thought exhaling would be too much of a disturbance. I played with my tongue ring, crossing my eyes in attempt to spot the green bulb.

Mr. P – Beck – cleared his throat, his eyes meeting mine in the rear-view mirror. Quickly I sucked in the bar and bulb, pushing it back into place with the roof of my mouth.

"You are a sight." Beck remarked with a mumbled laugh, his eyes taking on the shape of two perfect arcs, rising suns on the horizon. I tried a meek smile, shrugging my shoulders as I looked bashfully out the window.

I tried not to think of the Thing lurking about in the trees, moving amongst their shadows, stalking the living with savage eyes. And I tried even harder not to think of great big, hyper Thor. So much love in that massive body of his that he could never remember how strong he was.

Hot tears seared my eyes, my nose stinging with the sudden heat of it all. The image of Thor's eyes, large and round and so eager, and so happy. So full of life.

And now he was gone, that Thing had got him. Eaten him, torn his body to bits and left the remains for his family to clean up. Poor, helpless, massive Thor. Finally met his match.

I gulped, closing my eyes and pressing my forehead up on the chilly glass of the car. Chills coated me fiercely, chasing away the agony of Thor's memory.

The SUV rumbled, then halted, grumbling in my driveway. It was a beast next to my Aunt's teeny blue Voltzwagon Beetle. I wished it was, maybe then it would gobble her, and her little car up.

Stalon got out first, shutting the door and reaching around to open mine. It felt good to be out of Beck's car, like a great load had been taken from my chest. Stalon looked how I felt.

I waved to his father, hurrying through the night to the front door. Knocking twice Aunt Maria jerked it open, looking the two of us over, as if considering shutting the door and leaving us to the creature. But she saw Mr. Piece, realized he could stand in court as a witness, and let us in.

It smelt heavily of seasoning, tomatoes and assorted peppers. Maria was cooking, chilli, by the smell of it. I snorted, she knew I hated chilli. Vile witch.

Maria looked long and hard at Stalon's bag, as if it would explode at any time. I gave her a look, and she grimaced, fleeing for the kitchen.

I could hear the television as I kicked my shoes off, glancing into the living room to see Elliot and Bridgette curled together on the couch, fast asleep. Sponge Bob Square Pants illuminated the screen, his yellow body tossing sallow lights across the dark room.

Stalon smiled, looking at the two, listening as they snored in harmony and carried on behind me.

I could tell my Aunt was watching us by the silence he kept. The way his eyes would move swiftly from me and over his shoulder in the same quarter of a second.

It felt good to be in the sanctuary of my room, away from Maria and Beck and the discomfited confines of the SUV. Then I regretted not having cleaned it from the morning rush, not that I had had any time to.

Stalon stopped in front of the closed door, his eyes flashing around my room, nostrils flared. "Harley did – did – was Gabriel here at all…recently?"

I frowned, "Gabriel Sinclair?" Was this a trick question? I stared at Stalon from the corners of my eyes. "No. No, why?" I rested my fists on my hips, pacing around my room, collecting piles of clothes.

Stalon inhaled, closed his eyes, blew out a hardy gust and shuddered. His eyebrows began to slowly move together as he strode toward the window on the right side of my bed.

His bag giving out a groan as he dropped it to the floor. I watched him uneasily, while he moved my draping curtains and peered around the darkness.

Stalon clenched his teeth, making a noise in the back of his throat that I presumed was a suggestion of irritation. I dumped a couple pairs of skinny-jeans into my woven hamper and joined him at the window.

Muscles I hadn't noticed before surged restlessly in his back and arms. Stalon's fingers on my curtains tautened, loosened the tautened again.

I worked not to stare at these new ripples beneath his skin, savouring them from the corner of my eyes. "What are you looking for?" My voice was hushed to match the stress of the situation.

He shook his head, squeezed his eyes into tight wrinkles and then let go a loud breath. "Nothing. No. I don't know." Stalon's eyes were clouded when he looked at me, something was distracting him significantly.

I peeled his fingers from the drapes, tangling them with my own as I reached for his bag. My shoulder cracked and Stalon snickered, taking the strap from my free hand.

"What's in their bricks?" I groaned, rubbing my throbbing shoulder. He grinned, "Yup."

I lead him down the hall, to the farthest door, pushing it wide with my elbow.

The spare room was not big – certainly not as big as Stalon's room! – but we made do. The walls were three shades of pale milky beige, and were covered in the brightest of red accents.

My Mother's handiwork.

It was a charming, cosy room, though now that I had been in Stalon's room at long last, he seemed out of place here. He was too grand a creature to have to be here in my home.

After dragging Maria's luggage into the hall I gradually shut the door, flicking on the bedroom light.

"Is this better?" I murmured, drawing the red curtains and sitting in the center of the bed.

Stalon cocked his head the side, his eyes moving over me in a manor that was much more than to assess. "No." He shook his head, "Your Father is going to have my head."

I laughed, at least he wasn't as tense as he was in my room which was…odd.

My face reddened then, my eyes seemingly too warm for my skull when he lay down beside me. I slouched down several minutes later, resting my face in the crook of his shoulder and long neck.

"Why are you like that to your Dad?" I wondered, my words slurred by his shirt. It was wrong to get drunk off of someone, surely it was. "You guys looked like you were going to pounce on each other."

Stalon laughed loudly as if I'd made a major joke, I felt his face in my hair, his breath on my scalp. "We've never really seen eye to eye." There was harshness in his voice that made me shiver.

"Why?" I continued, burying my face in his t-shirt. Stalon sighed, I felt him grow stiff at my side, like we were in his house again.

"He's very…strict." Stalon's jaw flexed against me, "He disapproves of a lot that I do. I was worried about what he would say when you met." He confessed.

My eyes narrowed, was he embarrassed by me? "So that's why you delayed the meeting?" He shrugged, fidgeting in the sheets beside me. "You're mom seems nice."

"She likes the idea of seeing me happy I guess." A faint smile formed on my lips. "She's a lot more, um, _enthusiastic_ about my decisions and my Dad…eh, not so much."

I perched myself up on my elbow, blowing chunks of purple out of my eyes. "He doesn't like me?" I hadn't intended to sound quite so disappointed, there really wasn't anything I could do if Beck didn't like me.

Stalon tilted his head, as if decoding some form of invisible message on my ceiling. "He likes you. In his own way." He pursed his lips, blinking slowly. "But his disapproval makes this so much more fun."

A laugh rose to my lips. "I think I'm starting to rub off on you." Stalon snorted, running his fingers through his white hair. "I'm older; technically I'm the influence here."

"Whatever!" I howled, "By like a week, that doesn't even count."

He chuckled, looking up at me about to retaliate when his eyes cast down to the door. I followed the indication, gnashing my teeth together as I leapt from the bed.

Tearing the door open my Maria jumped, her expression too shocked to not have been eavesdropping. Not even Dad was so low to trust me so little.

Maria straightened the creases in her grey dress, looking down her nose at me in a way my Mother never had. She lifted her chin. "Dinner's ready."

I growled, "'cause you totally came up here to say that." Maria glowered at me, placing her hands firmly on her hips.

"I'm sure your Father wouldn't want you two alone in some room." She said this in a tone that told me she had no other source of defence. I attacked.

"Oh? Well I'm sure Mom wouldn't have wanted you two alone either, but that never stopped you!" Maria looked shocked as I slammed the door in her face, watching as the black picture frames shook on the walls.

I kept my weight on the door a second longer, in case she decided to freak on me. I knew she wouldn't, how could she when I was right?

Stalon looked at me from the foot of the bed, silence hovering within the room. And we waited for Maria's next move. It never came.

Blowing out a breath I slid to the floor, my back pressed against the cold wood of the door. "I hate her."

He shook his head. "Because of what happened with your Dad?" I was surprised he was questioning me – of course it was because of her and Dad!

"She does look a lot like your Mom, Tink." He exhaled, "Did you ever think that he needed an escape – a link?"

"That's wrong!" I hissed, suddenly furious. "He was vulnerable and she took advantage of him! She betrayed our Mom!"

Stalon cupped his face in his hands, grumbling something unintelligible. "I'm just saying-"

"I don't care what you're saying – she. Is. Evil!" Stalon's eyes widened, scrambling to my feet I wiped my eyes, smashing the door shut behind me and running to my room.

By the time I was buried under fluffy pillows, I did not know what I was doing there or why. I didn't have a reason to be mad at him, but how could he have even thought to defend her? Her who ruined _everything_.

Rubbing my face I opened my eyes, to gaze upon a black world. My room was so dark – oh!

I pushed the cushions off my head, sitting up and jerking my Dad's shirt back into place. When I looked, the glowing red numbers of my clock read 4:58pm.

I'd stormed out on Stalon nearly four hours ago. My stomach twisted with faint guilt.

Kicking out of my sheets I fished over to my dresser, seeking my pyjamas, swapping clothes and creeping into the hallway. There was quiet discussion downstairs, and I needn't listen in to know my Dad and Maria were arguing.

Snorting I raced down the hall, taking hold of the doorknob to the spare room and slipped inside.

Night greeted me here, as did a grunt from Stalon. I saw his big, dark outline against the white bedding, then the sudden slash of bleach white hair. "Mmmm," He stretched, blinked and gasped. "Wh-what are you doing?"

He was about two seconds too late, I was already crawling into the abrupt warmth of squashy bedding. My skin tautened at the change in temperature, trembles claiming my limbs.

Stalon scuffled to the very edge of the bed, running his large hand over his face. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

I yawned, not caring for his words, punching a pillow to get comfortable. There was a great impression in the sheets below, holding the most delicious layer of Stalon in it's fingers.

"Don't be such a loser, I'm cold." It was a lie. I was vengeful from the pin-and-tickle incident earlier. And gradually, I reeled him in, smirking victoriously.

When I felt the bare, rippling muscle of his back on mine my eyes bulged. Sucking in a muffled breath, I began to think that this tank-top was much too clingy.

Minutes passed in silence, and I didn't need to ask to know he was awake. **Too awake**, I thought. We were both just _too_ awake. I rolled slowly, to my side to stare an odd little shape in the face.

Stalon has a tattoo? Since when? Why? Raising my hand, I stretched out a finger, jumping up when he gasped. My fingertip traced the smooth outline between his shoulder blades. A black circle, entwined with a crimson triangle – was that a theta sign in the middle?

"I like it." I whispered, unsure if Maria and Dad were still downstairs or not. "What's it mean?"

Stalon shivered, sighing loudly. "Go to sleep Tink." His voice was sharp, even for fake drowsiness. I scowled, drawing the covers up to my chin and shimmying closer when I figured he'd be nodding off.

I counted several tall shadows, each with warped and twisted in frightening directions. They seemed to lean in, like a mob encroaching their victim. Ducking my face into the warmth of his shoulders and squeezing my eyes tightly shut.

I did not dream horrors tonight.

Something concrete and bumpy pressed against my face, raising and falling irritably. Squirming, I readied a fist to punch out a comfortable groove in my pillow, when a hand snatched my wrist.

"Don't you dare." It was a groggily recognizable voice, and I smiled scratching at my eyes.

My back cracked when I stretched, glancing around the light space of the guest room. Square red curtains drawn to show a grey sky and the distorted fingers of tree hands.

The door was slightly ajar, allowing the loud shrieks of my brother and sister to seep in.

There was a great white and russet lump in the crack of the door, blue eyes peeking in. Jack stared at me a second longer, padding back down the hall to continue his patrol.

I blinked sleep from my eyes. Pushing away from the hard bumps that, now there were distance between us, I realized were the very firm bulges of abdominal muscles.

My face felt ablaze and pounding, I continued up the massive, brawny figure until I met Stalon's half-lidded eyes. He released my wrist, yawning out a quiet squeak, reminding me of Jack.

Stalon had a scar on one side of his chest I hadn't noticed before. A lengthy, mass of lumpy rumpled flesh, gone pink with age.

Averting my gaze, I stared into the contorted fabric of the bedding. It had been cast this way and that, as if we'd fought over it throughout the night.

"Your hair's a mess." He pointed out with a wide grin; I frowned, jerking my fingers through gigantic knots.

"You're one to talk." I grumbled, glowering at him from the corners of my eyes. Stalon scuffled back, leaning against the headboard.

I stared at the shaggy tangles of bleached hair strewn about his face. At the bits of bronze which served as his growing roots, appearing so dark when compared to the fine white further on.

Stalon made a face, grasping his right arm and gaping at his large hand. His fingers convulsed restlessly, and he rotated his palm this way and that examining them thoroughly.

"One minute." His voice was gravely, nothing like the comical softness it had been just moments ago. Stalon jumped from the sheets, grabbing at the navy track pants of his that lay on the floor.

I watched him retrieve the curious silver case from the side pouch of his bag and dart out of the room.

My stomach rolled with interest; I wondered what secrets were within that shiny case. Toothbrush maybe? No, that was too easy.

I was patient, sprawling out on the sheets, thinking of the odd tattoo on his back. Of the soft feel of his stomach, the solid irregular squares, and giggled.

Closing my eyes I waited, waited…and waited. Then I couldn't wait anymore, springing over the foot of the bed I hurried out of the room.

Yellow light poured from the bathroom door, left ajar. I chewed my lip, only paces away. **This is wrong. **Murmured a voice in the back of my mind. **Something's not right. **

My toes wriggled on the cold wood floor, my hands twitching anxiously. Exhaling, I slunk forward a step, enough to see his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The floor dropped out from under me. I clapped my hand over my lips, striding backward until I could feel the rough corner of the wall poking into my back.


	7. Chapter Seven

"Are you sure?" Rachel's voice was irritatingly doubtful.

"I know what I saw!" I shouted, hearing the static rise between us, Rachel swore.

"Alright, alright!" She sighed, "So, what're you going to do?"

I paced deep circles into my bedroom floor, tearing my fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes, seeing Stalon's reflection in the mirror.

His eyes were glassy, emotionless. Between his teeth something elastic, which lead down to his bicep, where it was tied tightly. In the crease of his elbow a lengthy syringe, the near invisible silver needle deep in his skin.

I saw his thumb slide down, pressing the lavender-white contents into his veins. Stalon's eyes closed, white hair in his face as he tilted his head to the side.

He looked almost…relieved…at peace. Like we were in the forest again.

I opened my eyes, resting my face in my palm. "I don't know." My voice was muffled, the agony was there. I didn't know if Rachel would hear it, but I was glad she wasn't here. At least over the phone she couldn't see me crying.

"I don't get why you are so upset anyways. S'not like you haven't seen somebody shooting up before." Rachel said, I could totally see her rolling her eyes and shrugging my distress off, as if it was a sweater.

"Not Stalon – this wasn't the same!" I couldn't believe she would even consider something like that.

"It-it was purple and-" Rachel cut me off.

"Oh Harls, calm down. Look, we'll talk Monday okay? I've got to go." Her voice immediately brightened. "Byes!"

My finger fell over the OFF button. Rachel didn't understand anything. Maybe if I had have said I'd seen Gabriel she would have actually tried to help me.

There was a knock at my door; speedily I wiped my eyes, just in time to face Stalon again. "Your Aunt and Dad just went out – separately. Something about an emergency at the office, and needing 'actual food'." Stalon laughed, "Your Aunt's quite a card."

His eyes narrowed then, "You've been crying." It wasn't a question, though he went on. "Bridgette and Elliot are outside."

"Oh." Was all I could think of to say, gawping down at the crease of Stalon's elbow. Blinking I caught the flash of a needle in his grasp.

I thought I was going to shoot right out of my own skin when his hands fit around my arms. I caught the astonishment on Stalon's face, he almost let go, almost.

I closed my eyes, feeling his lips brush on my eye lids. **He smelt good**, I thought. Like grass and trees and duplicity. My hands trembled when they touched his skin. Tentative on the sleeves of the t-shirt he wore, then coveting on the soft, sudden football-like bulges of his biceps.

My fingernail thin, bitten, pale, pushed into the faint blue of the vein in the crease of his elbow. He didn't even notice. I leaned into the faded grey chasm of his shirt, Stalon's grip on my biceps strengthened.

I pressed my lips against the throbbing line arising in his neck, pushing my hands up under the thin material between us. The twinge of a headache began, my brow creasing against his chin.

"Harley." It was the same, fierce snarl from yesterday, but it held a new meaning now.

"Don't…you'll ruin it." I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. He let go a shuddering breath, "This isn't safe."

I grinned into his throat, my palms memorizing every groove his torso had. "Tell me what's in the silver case." Stalon's fingers cut the circulation off in my arms, it hurt, but I didn't open my eyes.

"What?" His voice was sceptical, and then he grasped what I was speaking of. He moved, holding me at arms length. "Did you go in my bag?" He sounded worried.

Biting my lip I looked up at him. "No, I-I saw you this morning." Shaking my head I shunned the visions, the pictures, of needles and snakes from my head.

Now he looked cross. "Why would you do that?" Stalon made it seem as if I hadn't just peeked, I'd come barging in on him.

His tone automatically set me off, but the look in his eye, the concern, was what kept me from screaming at him. "I didn't know."

Stalon's gaze became distant, then frantic. "I have to go."

Pulling my hands free of his shirt, I held his shoulders as if I could keep him from leaving. "Tell me what it was." The detachment of my tone had begun to disperse, I stared him seriously in the eyes.

Stalon eluded my gaze. "Tink."

Snorting, clenching and unclenching my teeth. "Could you at least make something up, say I was imagining it?" Stalon's eyebrows had knit together, his eyes landing away from mine, fixing on the necklace around my neck.

"I'm sick." He finally said, slouching. It was as if those two words had taken some kind of scientific solution to bring together in a sentence.

Sliding in I placed my forehead against his. "Lie better." I felt them coming, the waterworks. "_Please_."

His voice was weak, empty. "I can't."

"Why can you lie when I don't want you to, and not when I need you to?" I bit back searing tears. "That's not fair."

"Harley." Stalon's mouth grazed over mine.

My head hurt. I hated him. "This has to stop." My voice betrayed me, in my throat, something too thick to swallow.

There was a pain, in my chest. Like a drill, puncturing a narrow hole through my ribs and right into my heart. I was my own horror movie on the inside.

"No." Stalon's fingers slipped over the exposed skin of my waist, I shuddered, my lids falling shut.

_Vrrrrrr!_ Went the drill, and the main character, would scream out as he pushed the tip to her skin. Overly dramatic corn syrup blood would splatter across the camera.

But the scene would go on. The audience would cringe, blinded by the sheer gore on the screen. And I would be the only one in the theatre who understood the madness of it all.

"Don't do this to me." Stalon's voice had lost the defence it always had, and the quiet rumble dulled to pleading breaths.

_Vrrrrrr! Snap!_ Through the ribcage…

I gasped, unable to hold it in. My throat became tender, and every breath I took was like sandpaper on those sensitive walls. "You have to go."

The main character would thrash, but her hands are tied. The camera would close in on her crimson spattered face. Her green eyes would be wide, and she would be crying for mercy. The drill only went deeper, deeper, deeper.

"I won't." Stalon shook his head. His fingertips were like ice on my burning flesh, I flinched.

"Then say it." I demanded, knowing I'd just drawn the Ace from my sleeve.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. This didn't surprise me.

Grinning bitterly, I shook my head. "You never could." Stalon winced at my words, blowing out a ragged gust. I was regretting this already, just by looking into his eyes.

"Just go Stalon." I knew if he stayed a minute longer I wouldn't let him leave.

He closed his eyes tightly, a muscle in his jaw surging wildly. His fingers rose abruptly, twisting in my hair and pulling me in. I couldn't deny that I wanted this, but it just made it so much harder to let go.

My hands coiled in my baggy pyjama bottoms, an ineffective substitution.

Stalon's kiss was selfish and hard. Had it been any other time – any other day, I would have been so happy for this. I stomped my foot to keep it on the ground, biting his lip vehemently.

I pushed him away, thankful that the twins never knocked when they came into my room. There were raucous howls from Elliot, Bridgette giggling behind him.

Jack looked me in the eyes, the only one who knew about what had really gone on.

Stalon didn't look at me when he left, another thing I was grateful for. The twins moved for him, Jack whistling faintly out his nose as he passed.

Elliot chased Bridgette back down the hall, and Jack sat patiently in the doorway. We stared at each other until the front door slammed, and then he came running in, ready to catch me.

He licked my cheek, his damp nose nuzzling my hair as I buried my fingers and face in his thick, warm ruff.

The main character rasps, with one final _vrrrrr! _She becomes another nothing, just a disgustingly mutilated corpse.

There would be a horrid _crack! _As the drill is torn from heart, rib and flesh. Nothing but unfeeling bone and flesh.

Like a baby, I cried when Dad came home. Climbing right up in his lap, I kicked my legs over the arms of his chair, and buried my face in his suit. Despite Maria's malevolent murmurings, she could not reach me when I was here.

It was like that for a while. Monday was the worst, not even Rachel and her giddy garrulous fits could call out to me. Then again, when she saw me, she never asked what was wrong…just kind of opened her mouth and wouldn't shut up.

I didn't see him the first week which, I suppose shouldn't have bothered me to the extent it did.

Then he came back. And it was like every picture on the front of the newspaper was of a girl.

Her limbs torn from her body viciously, clumps that I knew was fur looked like choppy magenta hair. Her face would retain this kind of shock…this kind of doll-like, painted porcelain shock. Sometimes I laughed at her.

Second week. Third week. Month.

"You need to get drunk." Rachel decided, waving her hand in my face. I blinked away from the empty chair beside me, gazing at the front of the class, Miss Stewart sipping delicately at her vitamin water.

"Your depression is a total bummer, we'll just get shit-faced and go nuts, you'll meet someone new." She shrugged, Michael beside her laughed.

I shook my head, stiffening when I saw a familiar figure enter the room. My fingers fumbled to grasp the rubbery case of my cell phone. I had my thumb on the 1 – Dad was speed dial.

"I-I don't want to get wasted Rach." My voice was feeble, she looked at me over the rim of her round glasses and flickered her eyes over at Stalon.

There was blood in my mouth. Swallowing I removed my teeth from my bottom lip. Rachel sneered. "There's gunna be a huge party for the foot ball team – they won something – they're having this huge party tonight."

Michael twisted in his chair in time to smile at me. "It'll be fun besides; you _really_ need to get out. I'll make sure you don't get too hammered." He winked at me, my stomach knotting.

Michael was going to be my chaperone? From where – the bedroom?

Before I could refuse there was a noisy crack beside me. My instincts screamed for me not to, but I did, and met not Stalon's gaze but his hands.

His knuckles gone entirely white, big fingers scratching at the wood beneath his desk. His back moved in the same awkward waves as it had at my house, I looked away hurriedly for my own wellbeing.

"Okay, I'll go." My tone was diffident, Rachel squealing with excitement while Michael smirked. "Get…shit-faced. It'll be fun."

I was happy to be out of the room as soon as possible, gladly taking my science homework with me. Perhaps I could just say I had too much to catch up on and I couldn't go the party. Yeah, right, 'cause Rachel wouldn't see through that.

A hand grabbed my arm so tightly, I actually considered screaming. By the time my friends had turned, I was already in another locker bay.

"You're not going to that party."

I squeezed my eyes shut, rolling my wrist free and pushing against his chest – contours I had memorized. "You can't stop me." My voice was strong, but my will was not. If he asked again I think I would have agreed.

"Rachel's right, I need to meet someone new, you can't stop that either." My tongue throbbed, acid burning through the soft muscle and through my tongue ring.

Stalon pushed back, "I don't want you to." His hands planted firmly on the wall behind me, thick forearms on either side of my head.

Suddenly the necklace under my shirt felt heavier. Stalon's nose brushed over mine, a sigh goading an exit from my lips. "Stop." I breathed, reminding my hands that they were pushing not pulling.

His grin was pained. "You don't want me to."

My foot was in the air before he'd even leaned in. Kissing him now had a sardonic twinge to it, similar to digging your own grave. I pulled at his hair, listening to the almost primeval growl that came with doing so.

"Okay, that is so not someone new!" Rachel pushed between us, glaring angrily at me. Over her head, I saw Stalon's expression and wondered if he was going to tear her head off.

He decided on it a little too late, reluctantly I followed behind her –hauled behind her – hearing Rachel's furious ranting. "You don't kiss….Stalon's such a….you can do better….don't ever do that again…Gabriel….I don't know what you see in him…Gabriel."

I never replied, instead felt the bounce of a cold crystalline wolf on my chest. Rachel shoved me into the art room, jabbing a long finger at me. "I'll talk to you later." Her voice was stern, parental.

I sat at the blank easel, watching the rest of my class come in sporadically. Miss Thompson swept around the class, trance-like, readying a stool at the front of the room.

It took me a moment to see what exact torture she intended to put us through. By that time however, I was sitting in front of Gabriel Sinclair and his tall white page.

"Why so morose?" His tone held concern that, if I hadn't been so deep in thought, I would have thought untrue.

My palms were clammy as I tucked hair behind my ears. "Not huge fan of having myself drawn." It was a good lie, to anyone who didn't know me.

Gabriel grinned, cocking his head to the left, his eyes shifting from myself and the paper before him. Black hairs draped around his ebony eyes, his slight smile seeming all the more sinister that way.

"I heard, through the grapevine, that you are no longer with Stalon Piece." Gabriel said this in the most casual of ways, his eyes remaining on the paper, his lips puckering in concentration.

My breaths came sharp before they ended, my stomach felt full as I held it all in. Focusing on the fine hairs of magenta in my face, rather than the smirk splayed across his lips.

"I'll take that as a yes then." He nodded with a sigh, his eyebrows arching. "Pity."

I blew out, closing my eyes tightly and sucking in again. "Rachel and I are going to the football party tonight." I stated between gasps, "Will you be there – for her I mean?"

There came a loud scrapping sort of noise from Gabriel's page, the rubbery bits of eraser scattering about his lap. "Mmmm…I suppose." He gave me a craving gaze, "Could be fun."

My upper lip twitched, skin alight with the rapid rush of a blush. "Yeah Ra-Rachel would be happy to see you I'm sure." I nodded, trying to shun the idea of Gabriel and I from my thoughts.

He chuckled, returning to his work. I twiddled my thumbs; listening to the girls behind me – Korra Walsh and Katharine Bates – discuss the new cheerleader uniforms.

Something about white pompoms with navy and gold pleated skirts and tank tops. Cheerleading – ha! Another opening for girls to wear as little clothing as possible, fantastic. Did they not realize just how cold it got out here? I mean, they wouldn't be so peppy if their teeth were chattering.

I rolled my eyes, running my fingers over the fringe of my frazzled jeans. Home cut by Rachel. The soft, frayed material tickled my open palms.

"The-the snake you painted…" I didn't much want to discuss the nightmare snake. I saw enough of it at night, only now, my wolf never came to save me.

"Isabel?" Gabriel lifted his head, looking at me over the top of his page, his hand still scrolling smoothly over the page. I nodded a fraction, blinking up at him. "Oh, I live alone you see, she is my company. Do you like snakes?"

I shifted on my stool, biting my lip. "No not really. They, um, kind of freak me out." That was an understatement, "I'd be afraid of it…._crushing_ _me_."

Gabriel pursed his lips, "Yes, indeed, they can be quite hazardous." He turned the easel a little to the left, getting a better look at were I sat. "Of course, one must climb into their scales – if you will, to understand them."

I shivered. Lately I'd been squashed, swallowed and, suffocated by a snake. I think that was as close as I needed to get to their scales.

"My Isabel is such a beauty." Gabriel sighed admiringly, "An albino Burmese python."

My body went rigid on instinct. I'd learned from my dreams not to struggle, it always seemed so much more fun when I struggled. I heard the echoing cackle in the back of my mind, the hiss of a voice.

My muffled shrieks, captured behind my crushed lips. My feet were the only part that ever moved, kicking frantically back and forth as I was sucked in, asphyxiated, ingested.

No longer was I rescued by the song of my wolf, never was I held in the warm, wild ruff.

"Aren't they, like, super dangerous?" My voice had been reduced to a mumble, like my cries usually were as my breath left my lungs.

"Aren't all snakes?" Gabriel countered haughtily, seeing my expression he laughed. "No, they are, nevertheless immensely strong, and grow to be rather huge. In spite of her generous size, Isabel is quite a delight."

Gabriel began erasing again, carefully plucking his pencil up to carry on. "The only real danger is in handling, although-" He looked me in the eyes, intense and black. "-aren't we all just a little murderous?"

The bell roared then, signalling my escape. Before I could though, I came around behind Gabriel, examining the sketch with bugging eyes.

I sat, looking as morose as he had claimed and there, around my neck coiled the fat, splotchy grey and white illustration of Isabel.

My mouth tasted barren, my tongue sandpaper on the roof of my mouth. Saliva turned to sand, pooled grains of dry dust crunching beneath my teeth and, scraping along my gums.

"Who wears a dress to a party?" I snapped, making a face at the teeny black dress Rachel had described to me.

She scoffed on the other line of the phone. "Oh, I'm sorry, do you enjoy being single? My bad." Her voice was like a whiplash and I winced.

"We really don't need to coordinate Rach." I murmured, tearing a pair of jeans from my cluster of blue, black and grey. Examining them I tossed them, aiming for the foot of my bed, instead they landed with a _thump_ on a surprised Jack.

I gave him an apologetic look, returning to my closet to search for the new t-shirt I'd bought last week. "You don't think it'd be cute?" Rachel asked, sounding distracted.

"No, no! I just…I don't really do dresses." I answered, ducking into the mass of unfolded shirts on the floor of my closet. Rachel said something on the other line that I didn't quite catch, though I sensed the hostility of whatever it was.

With a smirk I yanked the light blue of my shirt from the pile, flattening the creases as best I could. It had quite the low neck line, so that should appease Rachel – I hoped anyway.

"I'll call you when I get there." I mumbled, listening to Rachel's squeal of a farewell before there was a noisy beep on her end.

Placing my sneaker on the platform I put on the appropriate undergarments, my squeeze-the-life-out-of-you jeans and jerked my t-shirt over my head.

Jack whimpered, looking at me knowingly as I painted on thick eyeliner and shimmering lip gloss. His blue gaze reminded me of Stalon and I glared at him. "What would you have me do?" I shouted, not expecting his piercing bark of a response.

"Whose side are you even on?" I growled, teasing the life out of my hair before heading out of the room. Jack's paws scrapped along behind me, his sharp breaths indicating his closeness.

"Whoa." Was the first word out of my Father's mouth when I entered the kitchen, the second was: "I don't think so."

I groaned, stomping my foot. "I'm so not in the mood, can we please just go?"

Jack the Traitor planted his white and russet behind down beside my Father, serving as the other parent in this situation. I narrowed my eyes at them, listening as Maria snickered.

"You know I'll just call Rachel to come get me." I cocked a brow at him, my fists on my hips. Something like reminiscence shone in his eyes for a moment, Dad swallowing audibly as he shook his head.

He nodded finally, reaching across the counter for his keys. Maria's jaw dropped, "Emerrett!"

Jack on our heels Dad waved over his shoulder at her, still yelling her disapproval as we left the house.

The night's breath bit at me through my clothes, pinching the tips of my fingers and nose. The whole street was lit by the cloudless sky a round, white moon seated brightly above us.

The van was silent despite Jack's quick exhales and the grumble of the lowered radio. Dad hummed along with it for a minute or two, then sighed when we'd come to a red light.

"You're not doing this to get back at that boy are you?" His voice was careful, his words delicate as if each syllable held within them easily broken jewels.

I glowered at him. "Leave me alone."

His hand cupped the side of my face, his thumb sweeping over the curve of my cheek. "Talk to me Tinkerbelle…you-you just can't lock me out." Dad's calm voice shook a little, and I knew he wasn't seeing me.

I shifted in my seat as the van sped back into motion, heading down the lengthy bends of the bright road. "I want to meet someone new." I whispered, mainly to myself.

When I looked across at him Dad's eyes had narrowed thoughtfully, the back of his hand rising to push his glasses back up his nose.

"Isn't that, um, isn't it kind of soon for that?" He looked at me swiftly, an embarrassed grin coming over his mouth.

"Never mind." I breathed, Dad chuckling lowly, running his hand over my hair.

"I'm sorry Harley." His lips trembled. "Just, uh, give me some time. I've got to get used to the idea of boys and parties and growing up. You're still just a baby to me."

A meek smile claimed my lips; I watched my thumbs twiddling in my lap as he went on. "Just be careful tonight, don't go outside, don't drink too much-"

I interrupted, "Dad I'm not going to be drinking, I'm taking care of Rachel."

He rolled his eyes behind his glasses, looking at me sternly over the thick brown rim.

"I'm not an idiot-" my face reddened "-And I don't appreciate you lying to me. I know I give you too much to run with, but I know you're not an idiot, and I expect you to make proper choices." Dad placed his hand back on the wheel, pulling in behind an ugly looking green car.

I glanced out the window. It was just 8:30 and the whole house was already shaking. I counted at least a dozen cars around the lot – some in the yard – and figured there must have been twice as many people inside.

Dad combed his fingers through Jack's hair, caressing his tall ears while I called Rachel.

She didn't answer her phone; instead I saw her walk out the front door, looking around as if she was lost.

"Bye." I murmured, jumping out. As I went to join my already buzzed friend I felt Jack and Dad's eyes on me, like lasers probing my flesh.

Rachel smirked, opening the front door and leading me inside. It wasn't anything new, nothing that I hadn't experienced before. Dad being a lawyer had business trips all over the place; during those absences I frequently attended various parties with Rachel.

I'd never gotten into trouble, I had always made sure the twins were safe at a friends house, Stalon was with me. Nothing ever went wrong.

Tonight however, gave off a threatening vibe that I hadn't the nerve to look into.

Music was loud, songs I'd heard a million times over. People were drinking, most of which I knew. The football players were howling, obviously already intoxicated. And everyone appeared to be having a good time.

Rachel wore a skin tight, above the knee black dress – the one she had described to me over the phone. She wore her contacts instead of her glasses. Her hair was in a large, messy bun on the back of her head, and her makeup – as always – looked fabulous.

We'd found Michael, who had us laughing in seconds. It was so much fun.

And yet, I'd never felt more out of place.

I watched, like I usually did, Rachel out drink her brother. Michael disappeared moment's later, off with a blonde in a jean skirt. Rachel beside me in the living room, listening to the best of her ability to the story Joss Greene was telling us.

Wondering, had she been sober, if she would realise every word coming out of his mouth was completely made up.

"Are you having fun yet?"

Turning I looked up to face Gabriel Sinclair who, for once, wasn't wearing all black. He grinned down at me offering a plastic red cup. He, unlike many around us, did not smell like Vodka, Vex or Smirnoff.

I took the cup, passing it off to Beth Hardd who was well out of her head, hobbling by us.

"Not really." I shrugged a shoulder, moving out of the way of a stumbling cheerleader. Gabriel looked up, I followed his gaze, the whole house it seemed began to screech.

Colourful lights began to strobe all around the room; it took a minute for my eyes to adjust. Gabriel laughed, his black eyes looking even more infinite if that was possible.

"Your friend seems to be." His eyes flickered away from me quickly. Peering over my shoulder I grimaced, Joss, now across the room, looked like he was trying to swallow Rachel's head. I never should have taken my eyes off of her.

"One second." With those words I shoved through a horde of drunkards to snatch her elbow. Joss glared, Rachel following me back into the kitchen.

She laughed boisterously, "He kisses like your dog!" I wanted to hit her, hit her as hard as I could.

"Rach, do you even know who that was?" I asked, keeping her balance for her.

"No, but hey, he kisses like your dog!" She giggled, clapping her hands as she staggered backward.

I rolled my eyes. "Could you just stay where I can see you?" She made a kind of excessively disenchanted face, saluting me.

"Sir yes sir!"

Our agreement lasted up until Jason Spade asked her to dance – wait who am I kidding? Asked. Pfft! More like grabbed her by the hips and hauled her off like a caveman.

Two hours passed, and still I could not find Rachel. Michael had tried to get me to drink, which was no help at all. Several times I called her phone to no avail.

Astonishingly, I didn't panic. A good best friend would have already phoned up the FBI and had her fingerprints searched for. However I was lacking the drive to do so.

I was done yanking Rachel away from guys that wouldn't even remember her name tomorrow. Instead I'd reached the point where I hoped she caught some form of mono.

Sitting on the marble kitchen counter, I ate handfuls of Captain Crunch that did not belong to me. Pieces scraped the roof of my mouth, my eyes scoping out the mess before me.

Cassie Lynn ran through the kitchen, her shirt evidently hadn't survived the first few hours. Gone was the pretty _Roxy_ tank-top she'd been wearing earlier.

David Pearce and Marissa Jonas snuck up stairs hand in hand. And Kathy Greene – Joss's sister – tumbled into the front hall closet with Harrison Ward.

This was a party alright.

"Moon's out early tonight." I heard a familiar menacing voice say. Stalon glanced over his shoulder looking as if he was about to kill Gabriel for his words.

His eyes found mine, just as I was pushing off the counter and closing the cardboard top of the cereal box.

I rolled to the balls of my feet, shoving the red box back into the cabinet I'd stolen it from.

A broad chest pressed against my back, large hands appearing on the counter in front of me. Stalon's mouth moved over the back of my neck and, despite the butterflies in my stomach, I scowled.

"You're drunk." Those two words sounded strange coming out of my mouth. Strange because they were applied to Stalon, who cringed at the very idea of consuming alcohol.

In his arms blue veins began to show, his fingers twitching on the counter edge. His laugh was one I'd never heard before, "Very." Goosebumps tickled my skin where his words touched, my eyelids threatening to close.

Spinning on my heels, I pushed my palms against his chest willing him back. Stalon shivered, shoulders rolling, eyes half lidded. His smile was odd it just looked…odd. I couldn't place why; it just was different to me.

His shirt was moist. Not visibly, it simply felt damp to my fingers; I didn't think my palms were that clammy. In the pale kitchen light Stalon's face shimmered. Just how drunk was he?

"You should go home." I stated firmly, sounding like the total killjoy I am. He leaned into my hands, which had begun to feel a lot weaker than I'd come to think.

"I want you to come with me." I was a little surprised, he didn't slur like Michael did when he was completely wasted. I shook my head, rejecting the idea the minute he'd come up with it.

Keeping one hand on his chest, I reached into his jean pocket, disappointed to find nothing there but lint. "Where's your phone?"

Stalon pressed his lips in a tight line, looking me deep in the eyes, not responding out of sheer drunken stubbornness.

"I _am not_ going home with you." I hissed, my voice sounding just as feeble and my hands felt, hating the smug smirk that he hadn't the sense to restrain.

"You would if…" He blinked hard, pushing the memory back. "I don't want this to happen anymore. I love you too much to let this happen anymore."

Had I not been in shock I would have corrected his grammar. Clenching my teeth I collected a handful of his brown shirt in my fist.

"Say that when you're sober." My voice was too light for him to have heard it, although his arrogant expression shrunk into a graveness that stung with understanding.

Stalon didn't answer instead pushed away from me, running. I could still see his white mop of hair in the crowd, the relieving of his shirt, and then he was gone.

I stood for a moment longer, my empty fist in the air before me. Went to the fridge, grabbed hold of a frosty glass neck, struggled with the lid and brought the brown bottle to my mouth.

By the time I was well out of myself, I'd forgotten how bitter and cold and bubbly and horrible beer tasted.

Being drunk, I realized, was such a fantastic feeling. Everything was too fast, everything felt so good. I couldn't remember where I was – couldn't even remember who Stalon Piece was. It was great.

Music that I knew I hated sounded incredible, people that I knew I didn't like were my best friends, guys I knew I hated kissed amazingly.

I was in Rachel's world. And now I knew why she was so willing to come here.

This was an out-of-body experience. I knew exactly what I was doing, but couldn't remember how to stop myself, couldn't even figure out how to make myself walk properly again.

My arms around Katharine Bate's and Cassie Lynn's shoulders, I posed for pictures I knew I'd see on Facebook tomorrow. Someone – Michael maybe? – grabbed my ass, kissed my cheek.

People were cheering, someone was laughing, another shouting, a group singing off tune to a random song that was not playing.

Colours, sounds, faces blended together into one mob. I forgot who I was dancing with, what they were saying, what song was on.

I thought I heard a door close, then I was cold. The simultaneous change made me sick, and I leaned over heaving until my stomach ached with loss.


	8. Chapter Eight

With an agonized groan I dropped to my knees, pressing my forehead on the rough, cold bark of a tall pine tree. Throwing up always clears your head.

"Oh." My voice was gravely, my eyes sore from the abrupt atmosphere change. My head throbbed, hammer blows coming in from every direction, taking their best shots at my skull.

There was a whisper in the distance.

My eyes, glazed over with intoxication strained to make sense of it all. I couldn't see the house, I could hear it though. The music, the laughter. It was so hard to focus with all the racket. Racket?

Someone was breathing, I could feel it. Heavy, damp breaths on my throat. But who? Why couldn't I move?

A noise struck my vocal cords, rising to my lips to be captured by a hand. Cold skin stung my face, clapping steadily over my parted lips. I tasted death on my tongue, felt the dry dusty scales of snake slither across my teeth.

My back cracked loudly in the sudden stillness of the night, and as I was tilted back I saw the faces of the trees above me. Their long dark bodies, fat arms and thin fingers, green eyes that shuddered in the night's breeze.

I stared into the man in the sky, his surprise almost tangible even from this distance. There were no longer stars, just the round glowing nimbus of the moon.

Out of the cold was something warm, something that flickered like a candle light. A snake's tongue smelling it's victim.

There came a hiss, so much louder – so much realer – than in my dreams. Hot spools of silver drool dribbled on my neck, slender points pricking my skin.

I winced, my skin punctured. And then, from the abyss was a song. First it was lonely, miserable then just as quickly, there came hundreds more. Echoing howls in the night.

I felt it, long before I heard it. The pounding of the earth below me. The snap of twigs and the shatter of tightly knitted bushels.

My heart skipped a beat; the hissing came to an almost unbearable halt.

In those seconds of silence, I twisted in the hand of my captor, my face cracking against the forest floor. My nose bled relentlessly, I could feel the rush of it sweltering, red down my face and to the grass.

The creature was big – massive! – ruthless as it tackled whomever had been on me. I saw the stout yellow coils, the large pale head and heard the snap of lightning that was the snake, bursting through the air at it's opponent.

Just as quickly as I had blinked, there was a person, slim but muscular. I only saw the silhouette, but the figure was lithe moving at a speed I didn't dare to comprehend.

Beneath the creature, whose lengthy jaws and gigantic body were the only indication it was not human. I struggled to move, my hand under me screamed in unimaginable torture.

But this person, legs snapping up, launching that same colossal beast back into the shadows. Fingers twisted in my hair, rolling me over with incredible force, I lifted my right hand as if to defend myself.

There was a bark in the distance, then a groan – a human's groan.

"Get away from her!" That didn't sound human at all.

Nails – no – _claws_ ripped at my hair, a screech resounding in the back of my throat. Someone cackled, the same horrid maniacal guffaw from my nightmares.

A snarl tore through the air, hacking the way an executioner would a criminal. There was man, flesh, beast. All in the instant I drew my first breath.

Again I greeted the ground, my back first this time. I was actually grateful I had not landed on my hand.

The murmur of feet on grass, another bark then…stillness.

I tried horribly not to move, gasping for my breaths to calm my heart. A hiccup of a yelp cracked against the roof of my mouth upon being touched.

There was dampness, warmth, roughness. I saw it coming, the beast, it's hulking body. I met it's familiar gaze, was touched by it's wet nose, my clothes tugged on by sharp teeth.

Jerked up, I sat leaning against a tree trunk, too drunk to believe what I had seen was real. Until white eyes flicked in the obscurity, moon light casting down on the faces of wolves.

The beast beside me grumbled, black lips curling upward, speaking in a language I did not understand. Whimpers rose up in the trees, then defiant yaps, a grey wolf whistled out of his nose, lowering his head just like Jack had.

Moaning I clutched my arm, feeling the jagged teeth scrape along my tender, bruised skin. I was surprised my t-shirt hadn't ripped, at least not all of it.

I was being dragged, further and further into the darkness. Behind me, beside me – everywhere, I heard the sharp breaths of wolves; saw the ghosts of their exhales in the night.

The creature dragging me stopped, through eyes clouded by pain and a fading intoxication I saw a cave. Saw it's great mouth of an entrance, the trees that shielded it and the four-legged guardians of the night emerge from it.

They had brought me here to die, I realized. I was going to be torn and ripped in the most dreadful way imaginable.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I awaited death, scorching tears biting at my frozen cheeks when I thought of Dad, Jack and Bridgette and Elliot.

Snarling moans came from behind me, but I hadn't the strength to turn around. It sounded as if those wolves were tearing someone else apart! Unless…I was still having and out-of-body moment.

Hands fit under me – hands!

I searched for the face desperately, only to be met by a massive bare chest and shadowed expression. I could only see his eyes, green like the wolves' in the dark.

"What are you…" The only words I had spoken in so long and they did not even create a full sentence.

"Hush." Was the response I received, and behind the lips of the cave we went.


	9. Chapter Nine

Sorry It took so long to update, I did double chapters to make up for it :D I got Assassin's Creed 2 on Monday, and kinda fell in love with Ezio lol so that's what I've been doing instead of writting '^_^ but I'll make up for the absenses. Thanks so much for reading, please review and tell me what you think!!

~Selene

* * *

"Who are you?" My voice had begun to sound my own again, although my head still stung with the lingering affects of the party.

There was an extensive stretch of wordlessness and I wondered if he would ever answer me. I hadn't a clue where I was or who I was with, but they were lacking clothing and it was deathly cold. My Father was going to have a fit.

"Unimportant." They said at long last, taking my hand. A cry beat the roof of my mouth; the long black nails digging into my skin receded. "I'm sorry." He murmured. "I should have gotten to you sooner."

I shook my head, "What? What do you mean?" My voice cracked with confusion, who was this? What man had nails that long? Oh God, it was a hobo, I had been saved by a savage hobo with no clothes.

A big, warm hand cupped my cheek, brushing hair from my face. "Your wrist is broken. I'm going to wrap it up but it might hurt a little."

That voice. That voice was familiar.

I watched him fold thick sticks and remnants of fabric from, what I guessed, had been his clothes at one point around my forearm. His skin glistened where the moon touched, his palms balmy with sweat.

Whatever was left, went to my face, gently scraping away dried blood. He exhaled, leaning out of the cave opening and looked up. A tattoo of red and black showed between his shoulder blades where the light touched.

"Stalon?" The words left my mouth sharply, and with speed I hadn't expected he darted back into the shadows.

"I should take you back; your Father's probably worried." He ignored my question as if I'd never opened my mouth at all. "Do you feel like walking?"

He sped from the cave opening, I saw his back, saw him take a step, and then he was gone. By myself I was in the lightless throat of the cave, alone and terrified. Stalon? What was he doing out here? He was so hammered.

Oh no, I'm dreaming. That must be it, another terrible nightmare, that's what this was. A horrible, alcohol induced nightmare.

But I wasn't alone. Something – somethings were watching me. Wolves. From outside the cave, not daring to enter though they were there staring, waiting.

Breaths crisp, eyes glowing abnormal colours. They just looked, mere silhouettes in the night, ghosts lingering around the edges of the trees, gazing.

Suddenly they began retreating, slipping their faces back to the disguise of dusk. Returned the creature, it's fur thick and brindle, eyes and ears shadowed by the finest mask of white hairs.

The Thing's whole body was rippling, a hide about to shed. Compared to the other wolves this one was distinctive, unique in the sense that it was the size of a large bear, it's paws were probably bigger if not the same size as my head, hind legs like tree trunks and, I knew him.

He was from my dreams, the saviour that no longer came for me.

Though he looked rougher some how, bloody gashes claimed his snout and deeper wounds embedded his bulky, furry chest. A fighter now, not a rescuer.

He did come for me now, catching hold of my shirt in his teeth and lifting. I realized now, what should have been obvious before, my shirt was my scruff and I was the pup.

My stomach twisted anxiously. They hadn't eaten me. Why? Why when they slaughtered innocent creatures like Thor? He had done nothing to them, nothing to deserve the fate they had given him.

I wanted to pull away; I wanted to do to them what had been done so many times over.

If I'd been Rachel and carried a lighter wherever I went, I would have burned their whole forest down. Then they would have no where to run, no place to hide from the families of those they had taken.

Even the trees around me were traitorous. Tall, evil hideouts for them, welcoming homes in the abyss of darkness, blurred by a hung-over haze, yet still so noticeably malicious.

Their twisted fingers shuddered; the gust of icy wind, weaving through them spoke lies. Light green leaves tumbled to the ground, swaying about in the wrathful air.

I yelped, dropped and shoved into an opening. The back of my house looked warm and safe, a dependable shield if there ever was one. When I turned I saw nothing, not the wolves, not the Thing. Just a glint in the darkness, moonlight reflected in blue eyes.

"Harley-Claudia Annette Tinker, where in God's name have you been?" My Father said, not yelled, half-sprinting towards me when I stumbled in the door.

"Dad relax, I'm fine." I lied.

I hadn't grasped just how cold it was outside until his arms were wrapped around me. Then I swore, pushing him back to clutch my wrist, the brown fabric so soft on my fingers.

"What's this?" My Father reached down to assess my hand, but my scream of a reaction was enough to stop him. A fleeting shimmer of fear shot through his eyes, a look I hadn't ever seen before.

"What happened tonight?"

I was just attacked by a snake-man, bitten and rescued by a pack of wolves, oh! Did I mention there's a naked guy living with those wolves, yeah, weird. And the icing on the cake is I was carried here by the Thing.

"Nothing." My voice was monotone, empty, lacking the pain I felt within my broken wrist. "I think Rachel and I mixed our cups up somehow."

He did not look convinced, but the worry seemed to win out over the doubt. His hand moved over my hair, gentle and concerned. So like my Dad. "Are you alright?"

No.

"Yeah." I nodded, lifting my hand to the best of my ability. "I need Aunt Maria to take a look at this."

Dad yanked me into a hug, all I could feel was the numbness of my whole being. I was no longer cold but shivering, no longer outside, yet I could see those patient faces, I was not drunk and still my world spun.

I had been parked in front of Maria on a kitchen stool, my Father posted behind her, hovering. Behind the lenses of his glasses flashed an unfamiliar panic that, raised hairs all across the back of my neck.

Maria scolding him as she fiddled around with my wrist, "I told you Emerrett…you never listen…what would Annett say…ugh, hold still Harley…this is your entire fault."

I had no strength to shout at her for her grumbling, had no interest in whatever came to her lips. The events of the evening flickered through my head in an array of jumbled abstractions. Art contorted into messy memories, commingling with the heavy stench of alcohol and the brusque scent of sweat and wild wood.

I wondered about the tattoo. Perhaps a mistake of moon light and shadow? Or worse, had I imagined it? I sighed, it probably was all in my head.

Maria tilted my head to the side, her eyes bulging. "Just what exactly were you up to at this party Harley-Claudia?" I winced as she fingered a sore spot on my skin.

I reached to examine what she was probing, my fingers unable to move comfortably, trapped inside a tight black air-cast. Two lumps, no, bruises were fixated over my pulse.

The feeling of wet slithered down my throat, my eyes rolling back as I thought of the bite. Bigger, gentler hands poked at my neck, my marred face mirrored in my Father's rectangular glasses.

He sighed, "I thought we talked about this sort of thing." He pursed his lips, accommodating an exasperated expression as he glanced back at Maria. "They're just hickies."

I could not express the relief I was experiencing at that statement. If only they were hickies. But I nodded anyway, not wanting to tell either of them the truth of what had gone on tonight.

If Dad thought I had been naughty, well then I was simply chipper to run with that idea as far as it would take me.

Maria snorted, her icy green eyes scathing as she left the room, her noisy slippers scrapping on the floor. Dad's fingertips brushed a tender bulge on my nose, his thumb tracing the fat gash on my lip that had suddenly acquired a heart beat.

"You will never do this to me again." I closed my eyes, he kissed my forehead. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you both."

Nodding wordlessly I slipped from the stool, slinking out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The gleam off of Bridgette's Little Mermaid nightlight made me scowl, it seemed so bright to me.

Trudging into my room I yanked my good hand through my hair, scrubbing at my eyes as I changed. Pulling my shirt over my head and kicking my jeans off I looked into my mirror.

Eyeliner was smudged down my cheeks, due to my rubbing, though that was the least of my problems. My upper lip looked as if I'd slammed half of it in a door. A short, deep slash implanted itself right on the bridge of my sore nose.

The thick, black air-cast on my wrist looked like some kind of insect, swallowing my hand. Not to mention the "hickies," on the side of my neck, were fat and most certainly unable to hide.

To top it all off, when I turned around there was a nice, big line of teeth marks, on the back of my neck where the Thing had taken hold of me.

Slugging into my pyjamas, I crawled into bed, ignoring the niggling murmur in the back of my head telling me to shower. After all this, I just wanted to sleep.

Yanking a pillow over my head I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching the blankets up at my chin.

The twins and Jack did not attack in the morning. Somehow Dad had reigned in their stampede long enough that I could actually sleep in.

I suffered my first hang-over alone in my room, beneath the covers of my bed. The only people who entered the vicinity were my Father and Jack, bringing coffee regularly in an attempt to clear my head.

Bridgette and Elliot had tried sneaking in once throughout the entire day, receiving a life's worth of cussing and shrieking for their efforts.

I had though Maria, the witch she is, would try to lecture me. I actually hoped she did, I would have a hell lot to say to her if she even considered the idea of entering my room.

Rachel didn't call which…didn't surprise me. I hadn't bothered phoning her house, as I doubted greatly that she awoke there.

From where I lie in my mound, I could see the illumination of my dull digital clock. It was Exactly 6:45 when I left my cave.

My Dad actually gasped upon seeing me…mobile. I hit the shower first, clenching my teeth at the feel of warm water stabbing into already scabbing wounds.

After washing the remnants of smeared makeup off of my face, scrubbed the messy phone number off of my boob, forced whatever of my wet pixie layers up into a ponytail, brushed my teeth and went downstairs.

They watched me enter the kitchen the way a person might watch a yellow elephant fly over their house.

Dad did not comment on my drinking milk from the carton although Maria scoffed. Nor did the twins whine about my eating their cereal.

Maria was preparing some form of salad at the counter, dozens of bottles and boxes scattered about her as she cooked.

When I sat at the table, my Father cleared his throat. "Feeling better?" He almost sounded amused, lips twitching uncontrollably as fought off a grin.

I glowered; taking a large handful of toast shaped clusters and shoved them into my mouth.

Bridgette curled a red tress around her chubby little finger, making a noise that sounded like a drowning cat in the back of her throat. A node in my brain popped, and I pondered beating her senseless whilst waiting for the throbbing agony in my head to die off.

Shoving the cereal box at her she smiled, digging her hand inside and turning back to the small television like our brother.

"There's a message on the machine for you." Dad noted, lifting his coffee mug to his lips, pretending not to see the excitement light my eyes. So Rachel had called! Well at least I knew she was still alive then.

"That Stalon b-" I was gone before he could finish his sentence.

Regretting moving so fast I flopped to the couch, my hand over my mouth, praying not to throw up again. I grabbed the phone with my good hand, opening the message and pressing the ugly white telephone to my ear.

"Harley," he sounded out of breath. "Look, what happened last night-" My nose wrinkled, hoping his next words wouldn't be: 'take me back' "-ugh! No! I just wanted to make sure you were alright, when I-I came back you weren't there, I just…look, call me tomorrow. Please."

I played the recording several more times, he didn't sound drunk, just extremely rushed. It took me a few seconds to make out exactly what he was saying. Maybe he was running again…running with wolves.

I shook my head, willing that idea to disintegrate. Stalon Piece did not hang out with wolves whilst being naked – that's just ridiculous!

"Are you going to call him?" Dad asked quietly, taking the phone from my taught fingers and placing it back down on the receiver. His brows arched when I shook my head, "Why not?"

"Dad, for one, I need a bucket and two, I don't want to." I crossed my arms over my chest, looking up at him stubbornly.

Running a hand through his greying hair, the other set on his waist he blew out a hard breath. "Women," And with that he scuffled through the living room and out into the hall.

From where I lay on the couch, I could hear him and Jack heading into the basement. I could guess they would not be coming back until dinner was ready.

I stared into the ceiling, which looked like it was swaying side to side from my point of view. I didn't want to talk to Stalon at all, but, after what happened last night I didn't think I had much of a choice.

According to the message, he had called at three am last night. So did that mean I should phone him today or tomorrow? I tossed my arm over my face; I wasn't crazy enough to believe that what I had seen last night was true, or that that guy was Stalon.

But I wasn't sober enough not to either.

Sitting up I jerked the knot of elastic out of my hair, yanking my fingers through the damp, harsh snarls of magenta. Stalon wanted me to phone, so I would go to his house instead because he wouldn't want that.

What could he do if I showed up? Sick his wolves on me?

Bare feet slapping noisily on the wood floor I peeked into the kitchen, Bridgette and Elliot whispered to each other as they looked at me.

"Maria I need you to drive me somewhere." My voice was groggily demanding, no where near the hostile growl I was aiming for.

She laughed loudly. "Yeah, right." And she went back to her cooking, a giant salad on the counter beside her, her hands in a big silver bowl whisking something.

I pursed my lips, coming closer to the twins. "You guys want to hear a little secret about Aunty." My voice was not a whisper, and it definitely got her attention.

"She and Daddy-" Maria cut me off, driving the silver bowl into the fridge and grabbing her car keys.

"Let's go."

Smirking I went to the hall closet, robotically putting my coat on and following her outside. I didn't care much for looking good in front of Stalon anymore, and I really didn't feel like putting a bra on or changing from sweats to jeans right now.

Kneeling down, I ducked into her beetle, buckling up as she reversed out of the driveway. We were out of the subdivision when she spoke, "Where are we going?"

I looked her up and down, turning to face the passenger window again.

She sighed, playing with the heat so it was unbearably warm in the tight space. "Look, I know we haven't been very close since, well, since your Father and I-"

I sent her a look that openly stated: if you don't shut up right now I will shoot you in the face point blank while you're asleep.

She hushed up instantly.

In the silent boiling of the car I shuffled in my seat, my stomach bubbling as we began to slip out of town.

"I'm sorry."

My head whipped over to her so fast I was stunned that I hadn't broken my own neck. "Bullshit you are!"

"You're sorry." I repeated, venom dancing on my tongue. "You fucked my Dad – what are you, bloody stupid? You think sorry is going to fix what you've done?"

I hadn't noticed how much my head hurt until I'd finished shouting, nor had I realized I had made her cry.

My chest hurt, my eyes burning with biting tears, like acid clawing at my eyes to be free. Sucking my top lip into my mouth, I chewed at the sensitive cut until it bled. I refused to let even one tear fall in front of her.

Catching a glimpse of a white sign I yelled for her to stop, throwing my belt off and slamming the door shut when I got out.

Only once did I look back, hoping that by some magical force the car would have exploded. Instead Maria was slumped over the wheel of her beetle, hands over her eyes as she wept.

I stumbled up the weaving driveway, too angry to be afraid of the wood around me and, too hurt to stop and think about what I was doing.

How long had I waited to see her cry? How long have I wanted her to cry? It felt too good to feel sorry for her, too utterly fulfilling to regret the words I had thrown at her.

Beck came to the door when I knocked, his eyes widened for a moment, then he grinned hugely. "Miss Tinker, what do we owe the honour?"

I shuffled uncomfortably on the doorstep. It wasn't the atmosphere created by Stalon and his father that made Beck seem frightening. It was simply Beck himself. Something about him just…made me scared.

"Um," I began, trying to keep myself from stuttering. "Is Stalon in?"

I pushed my hands into my pockets, occupying myself by clenching and unclenching my fists. Ever thankful that he didn't ask where I'd gotten such horrid cuts and bruises.

Beck tilted his head to the side, my eyes closing tightly. How could the two of them be so different and look so the same? Sucking in a long breath I gazed back up at him.

"Yes, of course. He's in his room, go on up." So easily he let me in, all this time I could have just walked in and Stalon never once brought me here.

Stepping on the heel of my sneaker I slipped down the front hall, never having entered this way before.

The ceilings were high, and the paint – as every other room it seemed – was quite dark. Only in the hallway, was there any wall paper and it, like the wood panels below me, looked expensive and elegant.

Acutely aware of Beck I was, as if I had super-sonic hearing, I could hear his every step, took into thought his every movement. The hairs along the nape of my neck tingled wildly, standing on end.

I saw the stairs and struggled to keep from running for them. Though now that I wasn't rushing, it felt as if I was moving extremely slow, like walking underwater.

It was an agonizing triumph, getting to the top of them where I, now out of Beck's line of sight, picked up speed.

My hand was slow to rise, apprehensive as I tried to knock; there was a groan from the other side of the door. Hurriedly, I rapped my knuckles across the smooth wood, biting my lip as I waited.

Forever passed when finally he opened the door, and I looked at a very sweaty, very shirtless Stalon. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in deeply through his nose. "What do you want?"

My brow furrowed. "Y-you called me. My voice was sharp, sharp enough that it provoked a glare.

"Harley, I can't…I can't talk right now." His hand rose, but before he could yank it through his hair I snatched his wrist.

"What're you doing?" His fingertips were…they were covered in blood? I looked at him suspiciously, Stalon balling his hand into a fist and pulling away from me.

He retreated into his room again, my palm falling flat on the wood to push the door wide.

First, I was struck by the scent. Not quite the same clammy, dirty boy stench of room of Elliot's. Instead came a heavier, testable shroud of musky wood, the crisply brisk rush of fresh outdoors and, then, the sudden reek of pungent sweat.

The abruptness made my nose wrinkle in pain, too quick all these smells came.

Next of course, was the sight. I remembered what Stalon's room looked like from last month, and this was not it.

The bed, like mine was dishevelled, an array of pillows marked with blood and sheets torn to mere frayed clumps. The walls reminded me of Jack as a puppy, before we'd allowed him in the house.

Jack had bitten through the wood of his kennel, dug holes clean into the walls, and left odd clusters of white fur all along the floor, his muzzle nearly bald and covered in crimson.

This is exactly what it appeared Stalon had done to the lovely shade of wine his walls had been.

His gaze was shifty, uncomfortably so. It almost seemed appropriate for his eyes to dart that way, as his whole body trembled wildly – surging in ways I would have thought painful.

"Can you make this quick?" He sounded impatient and breathless. His eyelids drooped, I could make out a glossy sheen coating them as well, the thin veins beneath the skin jumping out at me.

I made a face, he'd called me – forgotten that he'd called me – and then rushes everything. If he didn't want to speak to me why phone in the first place.

"What've you been doing?" I couldn't hide the disgust in my voice, staring into a dark patch in his white carpet. Blood.

Stalon shook his head, "Nothing I'm – I'm not feeling…myself." White hair swayed in his face, sticking to the damp beads that lined the anxious creases of his forehead.

I snorted, pacing around the room, examining the near frightening splashes of cracking crimson along his wall. They were near invisible, until the light touched them.

I was surprised he hadn't mentioned anything about my face, or my neck for that matter. Knowing his new jealous streak I had thought that would prod a nerve, he had to be pretty hung-over.

"You must've drunk a lot more than me, I guess." I murmured, looking out his window at a purple sky and, into the dark trees around the house, a black face staring up at me.

The wolf didn't move, crouching motionless beneath the thick skirt of a tall pine tree, it's black muzzle poking out, colourless eyes peering up at me.

Stiffening, I heard Stalon stir, his big arm shoving me back away from the window. There was the same ripple throughout his back, as there had been at my house, although this looked more violent, like he was going to burst.

So did this mean I was right? That it was Stalon last night, in the cave…with the wolves. I shuddered. This didn't make any sense!

My eyes fixed on the tattoo between his shoulder blades, on the entwined triangle and circle, the theta sign; it hurt my head trying to decipher the meaning of it.

Stalon turned on his heels, his lips twitching as he pushed by me, stomping out the door.

I gave chase, calling his name though my voice seemed to tumble to ears that did not wish to listen.

He only spoke once, when we'd entered the back yard – if you could call such an impossible snarl speaking. His vehement words consisted viciously of: "Harley go home."

I wasn't a dog, Stalon couldn't tell me what to do. And after what I went through last night, I really wasn't afraid of him.

Stalon's pace increased when the wolf came into sight, for a split second I wondered what exactly he planned to do – talk to it?

The wolf however, seemed to disagree with that plot, ducking back into the shadow of the nearing night, it was then that Stalon took off.

Stalon wasn't fast, at least, he wasn't this fast. I tried to catch him, but by the time I'd broken into the arms of the trees he was gone. They both were.

I didn't think of the Thing, didn't think of how close it was until night fall or, of my headache. Just that I couldn't leave him here again, I needed to find him, to know if everything from last night was true – I needed answers.

My lungs ached, my throat dry as I stumbled through the bracken. I didn't know which direction they had run, but if I just kept going, maybe I'd find the way back to my house – and then trace my steps from there back to the cave. If I could even recall my steps.

For an instant, I was racing clumsily through the forest then, just as quickly I was on my back pinned beneath the large body of the black wolf. It hadn't looked this big from the window!

It's lips curled back, misty breath dampening my face as it growled, long ears running slick on it's thick neck.

My wrist throbbed in broken agony; chest heaving as I tried to catch a single panicked breath. A long, clear strand of wet dangled from the wolf's white jaws, growing lengthier with it's every sharp exhale.

I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the maturing bud of a scream fill my throat.

Again, I felt the pulse below me, the thud. Eyes flying wide I turned my head to see the colossal brindle bodice of my wolf, it's teeth bared as it barrelled towards us, tearing through everything in it's wake.

In a mangle of jaws and growls they collided, a mess of yowls and snarls as they bit into each other.

Pushing myself up I tried to blink, eyelids wooden, refusing to even close for a second. This is real, I thought, everything from last night was real.

No matter how hard I said it to myself, nothing made what I was seeing true. How – how could it be? Wolves are not that big!

With a screech of a yelp the black wolf dashed off, glancing over it's broad shoulder at me, before withdrawing into the obscurity of leafy bushels.

The Thing – my wolf, gave a breathy growl, releasing it's ears from where they lay flat on it's furry neck. It's head turned, a blue eye examining me carefully where I sat.

And then, with a groan, it began to shake…


	10. Chapter Ten

I'm so excited about writting this!! Lol I know, weird, but I've just come up with a really good idea writting this chapter :D so I hope the next few updates will be as good as they are in my head....wow, that makes me sound crazy! Anyways, please review and enjoy, can't wait to hear from you guys!

~Selene

* * *

The creature's ruff began to peel off, hands ripping through paws, fingers clawing at the smiling face of the wolf, wrenching out fur to replace it with shimmering flesh.

Shrill yowls grew to bellowing moans while large, muscles warped, tautened and shrunk. Bones snapped audibly, my eyes twitching as I watched it's rib cage crackle and narrow.

Stalon dropped to his knees, slouching over himself, long black claws digging into his skin as he held his biceps. He was naked and shivering, his breath but a ghost in the chill of the wind.

I wanted to say something, "I knew it," came to mind first. But what really came out was: "What the fuck!"

He looked at me from beneath his white hair, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood coated sweat, angry gouges in his back glaring at me from where he sat.

I crawled in shock, my track pants covered in dirt and grass stains by the time I reached him. Stalon flinched when I touched him, his skin was hot and it startled me at first.

Reaching up, I gradually turned his head toward me. Red dribbled down his chin from his mouth, a gash so deep it didn't bleed at all positioned itself over his eyebrow.

"What's happened to you?" My words were barely a whisper, unable to get any louder in the tension between us.

Stalon grunted, a sardonic smirk claiming his reddened mouth. "I've just got so much to do."

It took me a moment to realize what he was saying, but when I did I couldn't help but smack his shoulder. "This! This is what's been going on?" Shattering the tension, I shouted at him.

Stalon drew his hand from his arm, looking at the lengthy claws that adorned his fingers.

"You don't understand," Now it was his turn to whisper. "I can't help it. I've tried to stop…you saw me."

"Saw you what?" I snapped, I hadn't seen anything until today, and frankly I wasn't even sure what it was I'd seen today!

"The needles Harley, it wasn't a drug." Stalon's lovely eyes met mine cautiously, wondering if after what I'd seen the truth would kill me. "It was poison."

"P-p-poison?" He waited for it to click in, "Poison!" I screamed, he sighed.

I fainted.

Grunting I rubbed my face with the back of my hand. Jerking my fingers through my hair I gazed around the room – where the hell was I?

Jumping up anxiously, I was met by a firm grasp. "Easy, easy." Stalon brought me back down, his hands on my shoulders.

He sat – fully clothed – on the side of his bed, smiling softly. "You kind of fainted." His voice was low and uneven as he tried not to laugh.

"Shut-up." I growled, pushing his hands away. "I just had the craziest dream."

Stalon hung his head slightly, running his fingers through his hair. "It wasn't a dream Tink. What you…what you saw happen to me…was real. I'm a Therian Harley."

My eyes bugged, "You're a what?" I was hoping that he meant the place his Dad came from or something, and not that he was a werewolf.

"Therianthrope," He said it slowly now, as if I was stupid, his eyes tapering thoughtfully. "It's hard to explain, but I'll try to tell you in small doses alright?"

My breath came heavy. Therianthrope, Therian, Therianthrope. Nope, no matter how much you say it, I don't believe it. Stalon looked down on me, his expression becoming anxious and he squeezed my hand.

"Please, I know it sounds crazy, but Harley please just hear me out." He was begging, begging with those eyes. How could I refuse?

Pressing my lips together, I stared up into his eyes, forcing my head to clear long enough for him to speak. When I nodded, he continued.

"A long, long time ago my family was cursed. To this day we don't know why, but an ancestor of mine meddled in somethings he shouldn't have been, and a lot of people were horribly, horribly murdered.

"Because of these…acts he was condemned to a life 'ruled by the moon,' and-" Stalon grinned icily "-he damned us all, sometimes – if we're lucky it skips a generation but, that doesn't happen often."

He gave me a moment to process this, which I was thankful for. This was too much too fast curses, moons, murders? How could he possibly expect me to accept all this?

Because he needs you to accept it. Mumbled a faint voice from the back of my head, I swallowed audibly, clutching his fingers as tightly as I could with my good hand.

"So that last night was you?" I asked, already knowing his answer, Stalon nodded, his expression grave. "And the needles were…" My voice caved in on me, cracking and shutting down helplessly at the memory.

"Monkshood." He finished, "From the flowers in the sunroom. You know how when some people have their hand or leg amputated, and sometimes they can still feel it there when it's not?"

"Ghost limbs," I smiled, my Grandpa sometime said he had an itch on the bottom of his right foot, even though it had been removed years before.

"Well, Therians sometimes feel tails, ears-" He flexed his hand in front of himself "-paws, even though they aren't there. Recently, I've been having more Phantom Shifts than usual, almost to the point where I think I'm going to change fully."

His tone had grown distant, quiet and I wondered if he was explaining this to me still. Phantom Shifts, ghost limbs, paws my eyes widened.

"How – how long has this been…happening to you?" I spoke up, my words softer than I was used to.

Stalon pursed his lips, tilting his head in reflection. "Since I was six, it was worse then, I couldn't control my Theriotype so I just had sporadic changes whenever. It started with Dream Shifts, every once in a while I would change in a nightmare. And then Contherianthropy when I got older, I'd just constantly be half changed."

I could feel my expression contorting, confusion taking over me. "Therytype?"

Stalon chuckled, moving his fingers over my hair where I lay on his pillow. "Theriotype. My, err, other half."

"The wolf." I clarified for myself, Stalon smiling gently.

"Yes, it's something of a double personality. Sometimes it's a wilful change and others, others are involuntary and I kind of…lose myself."

There was contentment in his caramel eye that conflicted with the fearful woe of his oceanic sapphire eye. I loved how they could portray his emotions so openly to me even when they differed.

"Does it…hurt?" I pondered aloud, snuggling into the soft bedding below me. Stalon's eyes blanked, again guarded as they flickered away from me.

"Stopping hurts," He stated matter-of-factly. "I like changing it-" I could see his face redden "-feels good."

I snorted, laughing loudly Stalon glowered at me from the corners of his eyes, a rosy hue over his cheeks and Nose Bridge.

"Does it turn you on?" I couldn't stop; it just felt so great to laugh after all this, after everything he'd said.

Stalon didn't say anything for a while, a grin on his face as I giggled.

"I hate it." His voice had suddenly grown harsh, ripping at the air. "I always feel it, always have the instincts and attitudes integrated with my own; I can't ever just be human."

That stunted my amusement whole-heartedly, smile fading, laughter dying. I watched him a moment longer, waiting for it – waiting to see it – the shift between them.

"Harley, I was trying to kill myself." He ignored my gasp, "The needles you saw – the monkshood – it isn't just to reverse the Phantom Shifts. They're fatal doses."

I jerked up, snatching the blue collar of his shirt and yanking him to me. "Why would you do that?" Stalon didn't even flinch, gazing emotionlessly into my eyes.

"You don't know what it's like! Harley, I've killed – people, animals, last night and today I've been in control, I know what I'm doing when I change. But lately more and more, I'm losing myself – one day I might not be able to change back!" He was yelling, matching my tone perfectly

I froze, eyes painfully wide. "You-you what?" Stalon unlocked my hands, twisting his fingers through mine.

"If I can't keep some hold on my Theriotype, I can't shift back to human form." Stalon's eyes had become too hard; the waves were thrashing too much. I felt like I was going to be sick.

"You…" I sucked in a deep breath, "I won't let that happen. Can't you just stop changing, just stop – without suicide?" My tone had diminished near the end, I hadn't let the idea sink in, hadn't thought of seeing him…dead.

"Harley, it's not a disease – I'm not sick, I'm damned." Stalon emphasised forcing the idea of him being a werewolf on me even harder.

These things didn't happen. People were not hexed; they did not become wolves when the full moon was out. That only happened in stupid horror movies.

Then again, I did have a sister named Bridgette…

I shook my head. "Tell me you're joking. This is all some dumb prank and you really called me to get back together."

Disgruntled he looked at me, eyes piercing. "You saw me." His words sounded just as frustrated as he looked, "I tell you my family's secret and you think it's a prank?" Now he was angry.

"Look wolf-boy, I'm sorry if this all seems just a little too fantastic to me! What do you want me to do? Jump on a frigin broomstick and tell you I'm a witch?" I had to match his tone. How could he not expect me to be a little freaked out?

Stalon's lips drew back slightly, his fingers wrenching free from mine as he dropped his head into his hands. From where I sat I could see the long, ugly black nails forcing from his fingertips to jerk through his hair.

A muffled snarl sounded in his palms and, when he jolted up from the side of the bed, I could see his long row of canine teeth. I gripped the shredded sheets below me, watching in terror as he ripped through the room.

Drawer handles crumbled to dust in his fists, the chocolate wood dribbling to beads at his feet. I wanted to ask what he was looking for, but it all seemed too clear now.

I knew the silver case prior to seeing it, and I recognized the bubbling purple in the needle vials before he'd taken one out. My stomach knotted in loops that had me gasping.

He simply balled his hand into a fist and out pressed the blue veins beneath his skin, so practiced to this they need no aid. His fingers slipped, trembled, clenching the needle that now, looked so tiny in his hands.

"Stalon stop. Stop. Stop. Stop!" Wrapping my arms around him, I felt beneath my hands the swelling, contorted muscle of his back. Eyes widening, I clenched my teeth against the cleaving pain of his nails in my skin.

Where I hid my face, I could feel his heart – as if it were there, beating against my bare skin – and the pace at which it hammered, was not human.

His breath was rumbled, hoarse. When I peeked up his eyes were black, black in the sense there was no white to them – none whatsoever. And the veins that showed around his eyes, below his flesh were dark and remarkably large.

"Can you just give me some time? So you're a Therian…I can, um, I can fit twelve grapes in my mouth – we're a perfect match." Stalon's lip twitched in a way that made me think he was trying to smile.

"I think I can, I-I want to – if I can just get over this maybe…maybe we can-"

My sentence unfinished, necklace etching into my skin.

I tried to ignore the horrible twinge on my mouth where my lip had been cut, but Stalon kissed too hard, harder than what I'd been expecting.

Harder than when he'd been human to me.

"But," I gasped. "No more secrets-" he nodded quickly "-and no more monkshood."

There was a familiar gleam in his eyes, one I could tell he was attempting to hide. I scowled, "Promise me."

"Harley, if I got mad enough at you…" Stalon shook his head, black eyes fading to blue and brown.

"You won't hurt me, now promise." I squeezed his shirt in my fist.


	11. Chapter Eleven

So, my boyfriend is a Therian.

If Stalon and I were to have children – hypothetically – they would be Therians.

And, to top it all off, the cherry on the cake…drum roll please…his entire family consists of Lycanthropes and Therianthropes.

That's right, turns out, werewolves are very close cousins of Therians, though they are much stronger, much bigger and a hell of a lot meaner.

His Father is a Lycan. His mother? Well, she is a very rare human as it skipped her generation – which almost never happens.

They all age slower than humans, they change all their life and, they turn into vampires. Yup, I said it, vam-pi-ers. According to Stalon, there is no difference between the two, besides the wolf-to-human shifts, natural fear of sunlight and constant thirst.

He says it only happens to Therians and Lycans who die in violence. Killed by others, murdered by humans, betrayed by those they love.

So they live on, unable to become their 'other half,' and consumed by jealousy, regret or hate. They turn into monsters, only contented when killing. Dracula times a thousand.

My reaction to all this information? Well, for the second time in my whole life, I fainted.

It was like trying to swallow your own head, understanding it all.

So much was explained by what he told me. The more I watched Stalon over the weeks, the more I saw the animal in him.

Some things he did reminded me of Jack, the instant jealousy when set aside for someone else – someone of the male gender mostly.

And the way he tilted his head that I thought was cute, I knew now he was listening to something beyond the task he was engaged in.

The school bell hurt his ears, he hated dogs and, above all, Stalon absolutely cannot stand perfume. Scents too fine, sounds to keen seemed to harm sensitive senses which could trigger a shift. Not completely, but enough that he needed a shot to ward it off.

I wish I had taken notes, there was so much to remember – what not to do, what to do.

A sigh seeped passed my lips, fingers curling on the warm cushions, Jack's sharp breaths beating against the wood floor. From the corners of my eyes, I could see him sleeping, his snout wrinkling, paws scraping along the floor.

For a moment I pondered what he could be dreaming about, what made him run like that. Then I thought of that ugly, yellow snake her smooth scales tight around my body, her cackle hypnotic and deafening. Isabel's mouth would open with a hiss, and her head would crack through the air as she lunged at me.

I would try to scream as she swallowed me whole, feet flailing, my crushed body unable to fight. The walls of her would close, suffocating me, my face pressed into the hot insides of her body.

My hand jerked up, snatching Stalon's arm. He didn't flinch, just watched me burry my face in the sleeve of his sweatshirt. It wasn't fur, I knew, but it was no different.

"Harley." I heard him inhale, his face in my hair. Stalon stiffened, the muscles in his arms flexing.

I didn't move when Maria came in. She hadn't spoken to me in two weeks, hadn't even glanced at me. Ever since what I'd said in the car she'd been drifting around like a ghost in our house.

I had heard her telling my Father the other night, what happened and word-for-word what had been exchanged. But their conversation did not last long, Maria had broken into tears again, moaning out how sorry she was.

And my Father, the sentimental man he is, was the perfect shoulder for her to cry on.

She didn't deserve any kind of comforting, it was high time she be penalized for all that she had done. After all, she must have known that she looked exactly like Mom – that was the only reason Dad was there for her.

Maria was a menacing disease of a canker, and all she is worthy of is to be cut out.

She cleared her throat, and I gazed up. Her eyes lingered on the floor as if it were gold, and she spoke like a machine. "Your Father is here to pick you up."

With that she scuttled out of the living room – I was surprised she didn't just glide through the wall.

"Are you ready?" His voice was tense, Stalon's eyes guarded and quick. I nodded suspiciously, slipping up from the couch with him to look over at Jack, who had gone to the long widows to gape into the night.

"Somethings wrong." It wasn't a question, still, Stalon did not respond. His fingers wrapped around the lime green shoulder strap of my over-night bag, and he headed for the door.

I could hear the twins, running around nosily upstairs, their horribly loud voices echoing. A smirk came over my mouth, it was late, but Dad would be home from work soon and the twins were always hyper at this hour. Poor Maria.

As I opened the door, Stalon grabbed my elbow, a peep hitching on my tongue ring as his claws grazed my skin. Jostled around behind him, I heard a snarl rumble through his teeth.

"What?" My voice was quietly anxious, I didn't want Aunt Maria to hear.

Stalon shook his head, sucking in a deep breath and puffing his chest out. Had I not been terrified I would have laughed. He didn't take his eyes off the trees until he'd shoved me into the passenger seat of his Father's SUV.

Stalon bared his teeth, Beck grinning widely. "When did they get here?" I'd never heard Stalon raise his voice like that before, and with his eyes the colour of ink and his teeth so jagged, I thought I was going to wet myself.

Beck sighed, "Just now, they wanted to see you." There was something sinister about the way he said those words, but I couldn't put my thumb on it.

Who exactly were they talking about? Or…what were they talking about.

Stalon slammed the door, my face pressed against the window as we left him at the end of my driveway. Although, he remained there, eyes on mine, for at least half a second before he vanished.

My eyes went to the sky, to stare the moon in the face vehemently. This is your entire fault, I thought furiously. It hadn't been the first time Stalon had taken off because of this, and it wouldn't be the last. But it never got any less frustrating.

"Ugh, that boy is so uselessly emotional." Beck said suddenly, pursing his lips thoughtfully as he drove, though I noticed that his eyes were not on the road.

"What?" I hadn't meant to sound quite so bitterly venomous, and Beck looked at me sharply, his scar standing out in the dim light of the car.

"He's never liked his cousins." Beck made a face, "Because they're better than him." He shrugged nonchalantly; I bit my tongue to keep from cursing him.

"Stalon's pretty spectacular." I lifted my chin, gazing out the window, hoping I'd catch a glimpse of my wolf. And then, it hit me. "C-cousins?"

Beck chuckled, "Oh yes," He sounded as if describing an Olympic gold medal now. "The superior portions of the family – my side – are Lycans."

I dug my nails into my palms. "You sound disappointed that he's not like you." That he's better than you. I added to myself.

Beck snorted, "Stalon takes after his Mother, unfortunately. He's naturally outdone by his cousins." His eyes probed my face, as if daring me to jump at him.

"So why haven't you changed then?" I cocked a brow at him, ignoring the temptation. "It's a full moon."

Beck rolled his eyes, "I will, but not now." He smirked, "Stalon would never forgive me if I attacked you, now would he?"

I gulped, throat burning. Wincing I glanced down at my hands, at the blood my dull nails had drawn.

I didn't like Beck, not one bit. Just being in the car with him was a hazard, and being out of the car was like asking to be eaten alive.

We didn't talk for a long while, and I wondered where Stalon was. Weren't werewolves stronger than Therians? I shuddered, shunning that thought quickly.

My fingers memorized the cold feel of the crystal in my palm, my necklace heavier than usual. I felt Beck's eyes apprising me, and pondered taking a snap at him.

The trees looked black as ink outside the tinted windows, tall and ominous in the night. I remembered being dragged through the forest, Stalon's pack, the air-cast that was still tightly fastened to my wrist.

"I don't understand you Harley. Why you bother with him, you do know that he will not be human at all one day, yes?" Beck spoke firmly. Was this a test?

I nodded wordlessly, I didn't want to talk about Stalon staying a wolf forever. That he would be gone so completely.

"He is a mistake." My eyes bulged when Beck said that, "Gifted with the abilities of a God and yet so inadequate. It's sad really. Why do you even try?"

I clenched my teeth, glaring Beck in the eyes, maybe if I focused hard enough his head would explode.

Although, I couldn't help but notice how twitchy he had become. Beck was trying to fight it off. I marvelled at his will a moment, curiously wondering what would happen to me if he really did change. Would he kill me or would I be some awful Ginger Snaps remake?

"Because I love him." I stated callously, devoid of expression when I met Beck's wavering gaze.

Would I be a Therian or a Lycan if he attacked? I don't think I'd be good at either.

Beck laughed frenziedly, his eyes making the same arcs as the first time we'd met. Suns on the horizon. "You love him! What is there to feel affection for? I doubt he has even the nerve to say it back."

I didn't recoil…on the outside.

Inside I think something cracked, snapped, shattered. It didn't hurt, but it was there, the lingering twinge of something broken. The empty sense of oblivion.

There, in the distance was the large white sign, the gold engraving shimmering when the headlights flickered over them.

I had my door cracked before the car had stopped. Pulling the strap of my bag over my head and tucking magenta pixie hairs behind my ears.

There was a massive silver Jeep in the driveway, decked out in dozens of lights and bars and beams. My eyes moved over the large scratches in the paint, and I knew they were not from bumping another car.

Blinking, I widened my eyes to take in the darkness, waiting to adjust. I looked up at the gigantic house, spotting Mrs. Piece in one of the windows, she smiled at me and then turned to walk off.

Instead of taking the front door like Beck, I wondered around the side of the house, snubbing the prickling breath of cold air on my exposed skin.

The hairs on my back rose, clinging to the material of my snug t-shirt. My stomach turned with fright, eyes flickering about the darkness.

I wouldn't hear them if they approached would I? No, the victim in all the horror movies never heard a thing, until they were pinned to the ground, screaming and being cleaved apart.

Swallowing loudly, I fixed my eyes on the odd white birdbath, pacing slowly toward it. I felt antsy, my palms wet and shivering. I knew I was looking for a wolf, but my eyes remained on the ground, searching for a snake.

"Harley."

I froze. Eyes fixed on the tree trunks around me, waiting.

My stomach tensed, I was going to be sick.

Stalon stumbled out, moonlight illuminating the beads of sweat that covered his bare body. My feet drove me back a step, he wasn't human, not fully.

He slipped, clutching handfuls of grass in his fists, shuddering on the ground. I slid free of my bag, peering up at the sky, I could not see the moon, trapped behind a bed of ebony clouds.

Running to the tree line, I crouched, eyes catching his short brindle tail – unsure if it was to return to his spine or lengthen again.

"Go inside." He was saying into my shoulder, "It-It's not safe for you out here."

I scowled. "It isn't for you either." Stalon chuckled at my comment, a hand rising to push me away.

"Harley please." Something in the way his voice shook, in the way his eyes darkened, the way his skin tore…

Stalon did not push, but propelled, my eyes squeezing shut as a sharp pain tore down the top of my head. Staring at the moon, it's ugly white face glaring yellow rays down on me.

When the wind came again, I thought I heard laughter on it. Not quite the insane cackle of the snake, but rather the satirical guffaw of the moon.

With a groan, I rolled on to my side, why was everything so blurry? Struggling to catch my breath I felt hands on me, too quick to stop and too firm to wrestle out of.

Before I had grasped it, I was kneeling on the expensive wood panels of Stalon's foyer. Mrs. Piece exhaled audibly as she looked me over.

"I cannot believe you just ran out there like that." She laughed breathily, blue-green eyes large as she strode back and forth.

I wasn't listening.

Why won't my arms stop shaking? I thought, ogling at my fingers, curling on the glossy wood. Pale, clear blotches began to appear before me, splashing here and there. Until a warm droplet splattered across my knuckles, I didn't realize I was crying.

"Easy. You just need to catch your breath, the shock passes I promise." Her hands pressed even circles into my back, Mrs. Piece's dark hair tickling my arms.

"Sh-shock?" I stammered, my eyelashes leaving damp smears on my cheeks. Mrs. Piece's hand moved over my hair, her voice was soft and composed. "Come now, do you think you can stand?"

She waited a moment longer, and when I finally did nod she took my hands and lifted me to my feet. She looked unfazed by all that had gone on, as if she lived for this – well of course she did.

Stalon's kitchen could have eaten my bedroom whole, with it's vast counters and endless rows of cabinets. All a waxy dark wood, and glimmering stainless steel, I could see my reflection in the refrigerator door, frowning hard at my bleak expression.

It smelt of spices and warmth, of wild grass and trees. I inhaled deeply, memorizing the tranquil scents.

There was no table, just an island with barstools. I could see why now, through large glass doors stood a long black table, a bright chandelier dangling above it.

Three chairs surrounded it from what I could see, one at the end, another at the head and a lonely, marvellous seat right in the center.

Mrs. Piece moved around the kitchen, gathering things from cabinets with the swiftness of a jaguar. Their family, err, inheritance may have skipped her year but some how I doubted she was entirely human.

The contents of one cupboard caught my attention, she'd left it open, grinding something in a mug at another counter. I examined the numerous labels, the fat and tall, the yellows, clears and oranges.

Pills. Three shelves of pills, and a very long rectangular schedule running down the entire length of the inner door. My jaw had fallen to the floor when she finally noticed.

"Oh!" Mrs. Piece blushed, and she quickly shut the cupboard. "He wouldn't want you to see those."

My eyes narrowed, eyes flickering to the large window to the north. Nothing but trees…did I expect something more?

"Th-those are all Stalon's? All of them?" I couldn't help the incredulity of my tone, Mrs. Piece sighed as she nodded over her shoulder at me.

"But-" She didn't let me finish.

"Harley," Her small voice shook slightly. "They're pain pills and steroids – nothing more."

I shook my head, a black padded barstool scoffing as I drew it back to sit at the granite island. "But why so much? Wouldn't he…" I trailed off. Overdose. He would overdose.

Mrs. Piece laughed. "I don't think you realize just how difficult it is to kill someone like him." She set a tall white kettle down on the stovetop.

"Therians don't have the will to kill themselves. They are literally unable to commit suicide, it's part of the curse I suppose – there is no escape, not even in death." She sounded heartbroken, as if her words each lingered around her, with the intentions of asphyxiation.

"I saw him try, it can't be impossible if he's actually done it." I ground my elbows into the hard island top, biting my lip as I tried to block out the image of Stalon shooting up.

She tilted her head, joining me at the island, twisting long ink hairs around her nimble fingers. When she smiled, I was certain I'd made her crack.

"Monkshood, Wolfs Bane, anything from the aconite family, it can't do much now that he's immune to it." She smirked, resting her chin in her palm while her words sunk into me.

"Immune? How? Isn't that, like, silver bullets and stuff?" I pressed my knuckles into my temples.

How much more of this insanity would my head be able to take, before it burst?

She shrugged, blue-green eyes unmoving as they pierced mine. "Harley, he's been injecting himself with Monkshood since he was ten – it should have killed him then, but his body rejected it. And now his resistance to that substance has grown so strong that it cannot, no matter how hard he tries, harm him in anyway."

She paused, eyes rolling skyward as if searching the high ceiling for something more to say. "Beck first changed when he was four, and has been ever since. When Stalon was born Therian, it was hard on him, and it did not help that he was late to shifting."

Mrs. Piece swallowed audibly, lips quivering as if she might cry. I watched her from the corners of my eyes, keeping my fingers stiffly knit as she began talking again.

"So Beck started him on a steroid regiment, with the aspiration that they might induce the changes-" She closed her eyes "-it worked. The shifts were severe, and sometimes they lasted for days on end – constant back and forth, human to wolf, human to wolf."

I clutched the edge of the island gnashing my teeth together. What kind of demented freak of a Father would put his own child through that kind of agony?

Mrs. Piece straightened, pushing the sleeve of her purple shirt up, to reveal a series of long, lumpy scars. Some were obviously bite marks, others were a mangled array of what I was guessing were scratches.

She then drew the round collar to the side, showing to me even more vicious scars. My nose wrinkled in disgust, they were big, puckering pink gashes, turning every which way on her flesh.

"Stalon was very violent, due to the relentless shifts. He lashed out ferociously when he turned and, was even worse when he was human." Tears came steadily down her face, "Perhaps it was because he could speak then. He could cry, and beg and scream."

Her voice was drowned out by the resounding shrieks, ringing in my ears. I could see him perfectly, because I had seen pictures of when Stalon was young.

He was thin – but not little, he had the body of a well trained athlete. Although he was astonishingly short, even for a six-year-old.

He had shaggy brindle hair, not quite a rich gold, and not quite light bronze. His eyes were the same, lovely and wide. But…he never smiled, not even then.

Now I could see that face, that body – doused in sweat, his hair nearly black with it all. He would be screaming, crying but not sad, angry but not knowing why.

He would be pleading for it all to stop, and when it wouldn't, when he would change…he would lose it. Ripping at whatever he could get his hands on, whether it was flesh or not.

"Why are you doing this to me?" It wouldn't be a question but a shrieking demand.

And the more upset he got, the more he would be consumed. The more his flesh would peel back, the more he would bleed, the more he would screech.

I blinked, rubbing at my eyes as I glared at Mrs. Piece. "How could you let him do that?"

She pressed her lips in a hard line, breathing heavily. "I tried to stop it, neither of them wanted to. Beck rarely ever let me see him, but I could hear him, all day and all night. Calling my name. Stalon and I both knew that the only time Beck was happy – was proud of him, was when he changed."

"So you just let him go through that!" My shout bounded off the walls, Mrs. Piece looking as if my every syllable had been a slap.

"I didn't have a choice." She was saying, burying her face in her hands. "I tried sneaking him pain medication, and it helped a little bit, numbed the pain if only for a while. When Stalon got older though, he started trying to commit suicide."

I stayed very still, contemplating whether or not to punch her in the face.

"The-the first time…Stalon tried to hang himself, but the hex kept him from actually jumping off the stool. In public school he attempted slitting his wr-wrists, he succeeded in passing out, but the cuts always mended too quickly to kill him. He started Monkshood injections before we moved here.

"It made him sick for weeks the first time, and he kept trying – as you saw. And just a month or so ago, he tried to shoot himself, which resulted in a very loud, very bloody failure." Mrs. Piece had stopped crying a while ago, and now she looked as hollow as Aunt Maria.

The kettle began to yowl, and she robotically began her work as if what had been shared had never occurred, as if she hadn't accidentally left the cupboard open.

I stared into her back emotionlessly, without ever even blinking. My eyes felt dry, painfully so. Mrs. Piece set a tall green mug down before me, and the scent of tea leaves swept up my nostrils.

Shuddering I tried a horribly forced smile despite myself. Mrs. Piece looked grateful for my effort, but did not bring herself to attempt a grin.

I understood now, the unrest between Stalon and his Father. It was more than his being an unappreciative jerk, but because Beck had made him this thing. He had broken Stalon in ways humans could never comprehend.

It was his fault if Stalon never became a human again.


	12. Chapter Twelve

"Your mom told me something yesterday." I yawned, feeling the warmth that was Stalon's trembling body climbing into bed beside me.

"Oh." His eyes, though half lidded were hesitant. Stalon's voice sounded strained, cast between sleep and awake.

Scrubbing my eyes I propped myself up on my elbow, stiffening when I glimpsed the fat, ruffled wounds on his torso. They'd been reduced to nothing but scars but, at one point, I could tell they had been awful.

I looked into his face to find his eyes closed, purple thumbprint size bruises around them, white hairs sticking to his damp eyelids. My fingertips scurried over the bumpy red-ish marks, and then over the finer, older scar across his chest.

Stalon shivered, his lovely eyes fluttering open again, I couldn't imagine someone doing all those dreadful things to him. His big hand rose, shaking as he did so, to run his knuckles over my cheek.

I flinched, his skin was cold, bitingly cold in spite of the fact he was sweating. "What did she tell you?" His voice did not reflect the worry his eyes did.

"Everything you didn't." I mumbled under my breath, "About your Dad, the steroids the…the suicide."

Stalon's hand fell from my skin to the pillow beneath him, his eyes squeezing shut as he clenched the downy cushion between black claws.

"You shot yourself." It wasn't a question.

Stalon uncovered ebony eyes. "In the chest, yes. I'd been aiming for my temple, but my hand dropped at the last second."

I felt my brow furrow, my eyes tapering as I tried to decode his statement. "Why would you do that?"

His lips twitched. "I can't say it, I never could." The pillow ripped, sputtering fluffy feathers about the air. "I can't _love_ anything Harley, because I don't know what you'll do to me if I try."

I was going to kill Beck the first opportunity I got.

"You don't trust me not to hurt you?" It was difficult, hiding the dismal feeling stirring inside my chest.

Stalon met my gaze, and held me there for a long time without blinking. "No."

I pressed my lips together, willing the drill to stop.

"I know you probably won't pin me to the bathroom floor and, force-feed me medication-" His voice became mordant "-or lock me up when I change, but I can't trust you. I can't be in love…because I'm afraid."

I bit back tears, inhaling deeply through my nose to hold it in my gut. Stalon's eyes never left mine.

"But that doesn't mean I don't want to try, you've been very _lenient_ with all that you've been told. I owe you my effort." He added, his quiet voice careful with each word.

Opening my mouth to speak, Stalon's eye twitched and he jerked up grumbling profanities as he kicked out of the sheets. "We should go before they come." Was all he said, coming around my side of the bed and lifting me out.

I snorted, "You look like a zombie, sleep." But Stalon shook his head, pulling me along behind him and out the bedroom door.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, listening while I yanked my fingers through my hair. "Don't look them in the eye." Stalon spoke quickly, leading us down the stairs and speedily through a long corridor which took us to the dining room.

Jerkily now, he pulled me into his chest, Stalon lifting his chin arrogantly. The dining room smelt of bacon and eggs, toast and coffee, I expected to hear the squeals of the twins any moment.

Instead I saw Beck's revolting face at the head of the table, and then three unfamiliar faces, each with large cheeks jam-packed with food.

Three men, One, closest to Beck looked me up and down and grunted, turning back to his breakfast.

His hair was an awkward mop-like shade of bronze, which was soon shot silver around the back of his neck, the only indication of age.

Placed around his roughly situated features, were a sequence of unsightly scars. Despite his loutish appearance and oxen-like body, he looked like an unrefined version of Beck, only his eyes were both a dark cerulean.

On Beck's other side sat two other men, who appeared around the same age as Stalon and I.

One was a dirty shade of blonde, his jade eyes round and sharp as they swept over me. He appeared about to bust from his green t-shirt like the hulk and from what I could see of them, under the table, his grey track pants looked the same.

He did not have the same unattractive appearance as who I was guessing was Stalon's uncle however. Instead, I now noticed, his ring finger had been removed, leaving but a nub in it's absence.

The last man, had the same kind of blonde hair and, colossal stature. His cerulean eyes, though I did not look into them, I could feel as if they were lasers move leisurely over my body in a way that made me shudder.

With a noisy exhale Mrs. Piece mangled the restive silence, carrying in a fancy crystal jug of orange juice.

Her black hair braided over her shoulder, she sported loose jeans and a white t-shirt. My eyes held fast to the thick colourful choker standing out against her russet skin, shimmering glass beads woven into the mottled threads.

It was not the beauty of the necklace that kept me, but rather the clear crystalline wolf head, lain on her throat. It was the same as mine.

Eyes tapering I tilted my head back to look at Stalon, who did not meet my gaze but smiled.

"My word!" Mrs. Piece exclaimed, "You look like you might just fall asleep standing!"

The blonde boys chuckled darkly, Stalon's grin dwindling on his lips. "Rough night." The two snickered, elbowing one another.

Mrs. Piece glanced at Beck, who just stared blankly back at her chewing obliviously.

I wondered to myself, about throwing one of the numerous butter knives on the table at him. Would it hit or would he catch it? Maybe it would just snap in two against his thick skull and I'd get torn to bits.

Unfazed, Stalon's arm around me tightened. "I'm fine." His eyes moved swiftly around the table. "Harley this is my uncle, Eben and my cousins, Octavian and Leander."

I smiled at the floor inexpressively, allowing myself to be hauled into the kitchen.

Mrs. Piece remained in the dining room, pouring everyone a glass of juice taking a seat further towards the end, away from the men, and began eating.

"He looked like he wanted to eat me!" I whisper-shouted, Stalon smirked down at me, retrieving a tall glass and filling it with tap water.

"Leander." He nodded, "We especially have never gotten along." Stalon didn't bother lowering his soft voice, and I quickly understood it didn't matter how quietly I spoke – they would all still hear me.

I pushed my tongue ring out, running the bar along my top lip as I watched him. Opening the cabinet above us, Stalon's eyes became very grim and decisive, narrowed they moved quickly over the chart inside the door.

He brought three bottles forward, reading the labels carefully and then he shrugged. Returning my tongue ring to it's proper place I took hold of his arm.

Stalon didn't look at me, popping the lid of one open with his thumb. "No secrets, right." And with that he brought the rim of the bottle to his lips.

A squeak snuck passed my lips, my nails cutting into his skin. He swallowed loudly, Stalon's eyes shut tightly as he shook his head. His Adam's apple bounced restlessly and he opened his eyes wide, finally looking down to take in my horrified expression.

Stalon laughed, pushing the glass of water towards me. "That's for you."

How many times had he done this? Overdosed? Because, he looked like an expert at swallowing a million chalky pills!

Turning on his heels, Stalon headed for the fridge despite his knowledge of the breakfast his mother had made. I gulped down my water speedily, willing with all my might for that image to go away.

"There's food in there." I stated breathlessly, once he'd taken a jumbo sized box of Captain Crunch cereal from a lower cupboard in the island.

Stalon pursed his lips, gathering two spoons and a glass salad bowl. His eyes flickered toward the dining room, "I'm being difficult."

I jumped when he dug his nails into the cardboard tearing back the entire top and plastic inside. Dumping the contents into the bowl he went on, "Self-righteous."

He snatched the milk carton from the fridge. "Disgraceful," Then poured the entire carton in. "Uselessly emotional."

A bar stool screeched as he pulled it to one side of the island closest to him. He offered me one of the spoons and I took my seat, "You heard that?"

He smirked viciously, "No, because I'm naturally outdone by my cousins so of course I didn't hear it." I bit into my lip, squeezing the black leathery cushion below me.

Stalon's smile lost it's hostility then, and his fingertips brushed over my jaw. "I'm pretty spectacular that way."

A blush struggled to claim my cheeks, lighting a fire beneath my flesh and conquering my face. Stalon didn't say anything after that, his attention splitting itself between the massive bowl of cereal and the dining room.

I ate the small, oddly shaped bits one at a time, resting my elbows on the island top and examining the numerous bruises I had failed to see, all over his back.

Gasping, I looked as they began to shrink, fat scars fading into his warm skin leaving no traces of their existence.

My fingers twitched, my arm snapping out to clap my palm over the curve of his shoulder, trying to catch one before it vanished.

Stalon yelped, seizing my wrist and jerking back, scrutinizing my fingers as if they were noxious tentacles.

I waited for his full discern, rigidifying when his face came closer. Stalon's lips were like ice on the tips of my fingers. I squealed upon feeling the gentle pinch of his teeth and the abrupt, smooth heat of his tongue.

My arm trembled while I squeezed my eyes shut – what was this feeling? I inhaled dryly, my stomach pushed against my lungs, which were smothering my heart, that was climbing up my throat.

"That's hot."

I winced, Stalon's teeth breaking my skin when he ripped away. Bringing my hand back in, I wiped the bright bead of blood into my sweat pants, clenching my teeth.

Stalon growled from the depths of his chest, Octavian giggling. "Save it tiny, or didn't you take enough of a beating last night?"

"Four on one?" Stalon spat, "I'd have you beat alone and you know it!"

**F-four?** Leander and Octavian. **Who are the other two?** I shook my head – such a stupid question – Eben and Beck were the other two.

Octavian ran his fingers through his shaggy hair, "You know in actual packs the underprivileged are _eliminated _for their weakness. They're a flaw to the faction – we were just trying to do you a favour."

Stalon snorted, I leaped out of my stool, ducking under his arm to lean my back against his chest. Pushing all my weight back into Stalon I met Octavian's gaze, sadistic and cold. "Ohhh!" I cooed, "_Underprivileged_, you didn't even have to sound it out!"

Octavian's eyes darkened, causing my knees to quake and my stomach knotted apprehensively. Sucking in a deep breath I forced myself not to look away.

Stalon shoved me aside, and I was thankful for the counter's closeness as I would have fallen on the floor.

A great tear came up his arm, stretching and ripping like an elastic band. Large veins appeared from the purple around his ink black eyes, Stalon's lips curled back to reveal pearly jaws.

Leander came sprinting, standing behind his brother, both with the same furious expressions and juddering bodies.

Mrs. Piece jostled between the two, palms up when she faced her son. For an instant, I wondered where Beck and Eben were, and why they weren't they ones stopping this – but I remembered quickly that they did not care.

Reaching out, I wove my fingers in the thick brindle fur protruding from the horrid tear in his arm. Stalon froze, his colourless eyes fixing on were my hand lay buried in his arm.

It was coarse on top – his fur – thick and rough. Beneath, however, hidden below the harsh topcoat, were downy curls like silken baby hairs against my fingers.

Seconds passed like minutes, and I wished I could read his mind. I could see the process, man over animal. Watched the cogs click slowly before he was mine again, I stared in awe, my fingers now on the smooth bare skin of his bicep where his ruff had receded into his pores.

Stalon exhaled heavily, like pushing an elephant off of his chest. He blinked, taking in the scene around him speedily before hissing through his teeth at his cousins.

"If I'm not mistaken, I'd think you were about to hurt Harley just now." His voice was calm, empty but the glint in his eyes told me otherwise. The thrashing waves of blue crashing against jagged rocks defiantly, liquid caramel hardening into solid, vicious curls.

Octavian crossed his arms, ugly veins coursing up and down thick muscles, pulsating against pale flesh. His eyes an uninterested deadpan of blue as they moved over us both, lips fidgeting.

He opened his mouth to speak but Mrs. Piece slapped her hand over his mouth. She looked more than a tad irritated, her eyes landing firmly on Stalon.

"That's enough." Now she looked to Leander and Octavian, "Out of all of you. Harley is part of this family now, and you will treat her as such."

Octavian scoffed, narrowing his green eyes at me and retreating into the dining room, his brothers on his heels. Mrs. Piece sighed, combing stray hairs out of her face to smile softly at us.

"I'm sorry-" She was about to say, when Stalon grunted. When I gazed up at him, he was rolling his eyes suiting an agitated expression.

His had fell on my arm the way it had at school, his grip stung pinching tightly at my skin. I writhed in his grasp, clenching my teeth while he hauled me into the living room.

"Ow! Okay you can stop now, jeez!" Twisting my wrist I wrestled from his hand, glowering up at him. "What's the deal with them?"

Stalon's eyes tapered, "Not here, come with me." I obliged, following him back upstairs to change before we headed outside.

I focused on the odd white birdbath, lonely in the yard surrounded by tall, ominous evergreens. It almost seemed cruel to leave it there.

Stalon brought me into the trees, his icy expression slowly melting away the further we slipped into the trees. I marvelled at his serenity a moment, refusing to remind myself of the fact I'd nearly been attacked by a werewolf.

The earth crackled, twigs snapping beneath my sneakers, brushes whispering over the fabric of my jeans. Huffing out a breath, I looked about us, into the dark emerald above, and the blue of the sky even higher up.

Down at the brown leaves and mossy stumps and, the wild mushrooms poking out from dark patches.

Flies buzzed, birds tweeting a warm tune, I could see why his mood always brightened here.

"It settles me." He stated, meeting my confused glance. "Settles _us, _I should say, it's like domesticating a wild animal – living a human life."

I puckered my lips, feeling my brow furrow as I dug my hands into the warm pockets of my jeans. "You _are_ human." I didn't look at him when I spoke, afraid that if I did I wouldn't see a human at all.

Stalon's arm came around my shoulders. It was like that was enough of an answer, a more gentle answer – saying nothing.

Nothing was the same, I realized, a month ago I never would have believed a word Stalon had told me.

A month ago I was still Harley Tinker, sick of my boyfriend's bullshit, sick of Aunt Maria, beating up the Twine brothers and bullying the twins.

Now, it seemed as if none of that was real – as if it was all just some ridiculous dream. I was awake now, I was seeing beyond the black of my eyelids. Into everything only meant for horror movies and scary stories.

Stalon was a Therian now, not a lying untrustworthy jerk. Things were different now – doors had been opened and others closed.

So now, now that all the lies and excuses had been laid out on the table, the truth had been reviled. What was left? Humanity? No, of course not, how could there be?

How many others were there? How many Therians, Lycans, _vampires _were out there – living amongst us _underprivileged_ humans?

Was anything sane anymore? Could everything we'd ever been told, the stupid silver bullets, crucifixes, full moons and, wads of garlic be true? And we were all just moronic naïve prey to creatures we thought were myths.

"Here." Stalon said suddenly, his eyes alive with a light I didn't understand. His strides lengthened, hurrying me along, before we broke out into an opening.

I stiffened; we'd been here before…

It didn't look the way I remembered. It wasn't as terrifyingly dark, surrounded by menacing evergreens.

The cave mouth stood gaping out at me, a reminder of horrible passed events. Stalon gazed over his shoulder, smiling sheepishly at me.

"Where are they?" I asked quietly, squinting into the shadow of the cavern, Stalon turned me away from the cave, pointing around us into the trees.

"They've been here since we first left the house, following us." Stalon sounded impressed, I gulped and he chuckled. "They won't hurt you Harley, they're just curious."

I raised a brow at him, Stalon sighed. "I've told them about you-"

Interjecting, I tried not to sound so surprised. "About me – you t-talk to them?"

He smiled, "When I was twelve, I tried my hand at running away, of course I didn't get quite as far as I wished before they found me. I was on their territory, encroaching on their pack – it's only natural to attack in order to defend."

He'd begun walking, pacing away from me closer to the tree line. "I changed to protect myself, back then I didn't understand wolf-speak, so when I engaged in the fight I was really threatening them."

He paused, my eyes questioningly following him, when Stalon crouched. "It wasn't hard to dispatch the leader, and since he'd accepted my challenge and lost I became in charge."

I opened my mouth to say something, but a snarl wrenched my train of thought off it's tracks. A scream slapped the roof of my mouth hard enough to cause me to stagger, when Stalon was launched back, rolling over himself.

My hands fluttered uselessly in panic, my feet refusing to respond to my eager pleads to run to him. It took a moment for my ears to understand the sound, and even longer for me to process it.

Stalon was laughing.

In a blur of hands and legs, he pushed himself back and up leaving the grey wolf who had tackled him behind. The wolf's low, lengthy blue-grey tail swung from side to side, his dramatic green eyes assessing me.

I pointed, lacking the ability to move my tongue, into the shadows. There at least a dozen black, white, auburn and, grey figures emerged, their eyes appraising Stalon and I cautiously.

Stalon chuckled, "The last time I brought you here, I was very defensive. They're uncertain if you're mine or if I brought you to share."

"So all that stuff you said about coyotes, this is how you knew?" Slowly, like my words, I brought myself to Stalon's side. His eyes, like the wolves were evaluating my reaction.

"They're different." He shook his head, "Coyotes and wolves. They way they act and think and move, it's different. At first sight, you assess by size, then their ears – wolves have rounder ears – and coyotes have attitudes." Stalon made a face, similar to my Father's when I showed him my tongue ring.

I tilted my head, watching him as he knelt again, stretching his hand out to the wolf before us. Stalon's expression changed when his companion backed away, he almost looked morose.

Sucking in a deep breath Stalon sighed, "I smell human." His lips twitched with amusement when he gazed up at me. "I smell like you."

I scowled, "Do I smell bad?"

He laughed, "No, not to me, but to them it smells like people and we don't associate ourselves with them."

**We. Them. **I thought over these words as if they were a new science experiment, a new entity. Stalon had drawn a very thick line between me – a human – and himself – a wolf like them. I felt very out-of-the-loop.

"Change." My voice was quiet but the persistence of it was not. Stalon looked at me, examining my face, every aspect of it before deciding.

For an instant the gleam in his eyes was bright, excited. Like he was a child and I'd just waved a chocolate bar in his face. Then he blinked, exhaled heavily. "No."

Disappointment wrenched oddly at my gut. "I thought you liked it."

He blushed. "I do, but I don't remember when I shift, I can maintain control for the most part but-" he shook his head "-I'm not really there…"

Stalon trailed away, some kind of reminiscence claiming him. The wolves around us gazed on, and I wondered, why if they were unsure of us and we were on their territory did they not attack.

There must be some recollection of Stalon, not as a person of course, never a person.

"Do you remember me?" I asked, curious to know but not wanting to hear the truth. Stalon pursed his lips, looking into the furry face of his friend.

"I…remember that you're important," His lips twitched, "that I like the way you smell. Other than that, I repress most human memories and conduct and, well, am an animal."

A small smile came to my lips then. "When I was here last, you picked me up by my collar, like a scruff."

Stalon tilted his head, the orange afternoon light making his face seem redder. "We aren't very romantic." He murmured quietly, "I can't show human affection, only what I know in that mind, only what is natural for an animal – a wolf. Does that make any sense?"

Not one bit.

"Yeah, I kind of get it." I nodded, plopping down to the squishy grass below. Stalon sighed, his eyes narrowing and then he became very tense. "Don't move." His voice reflected the edginess his body showed.

I did as told, holding my breath as long as I could without looking away from him. The wolf approached him, the same one as before, sticking out his nose and pressing it to Stalon's, leaving a shiny damp film behind.

Stalon smiled, met my gaze quickly and relaxed. He ran his fingers through the wolf's ruff. "Well, it took you long enough."

I tried not to be too exuberant, how many people got to see a wolf – not from the zoo mind you – up close in personal? Stalon's warm fingers folded over mine, lifting my hand slowly to press my fingers into the wolf's ruff.

It was warm below the harsh overcoat; thin curly feather-soft hairs lie beneath, exactly like Stalon's this morning. The wolf let out a breath, it's pink tongue flicking back and forth out of it's black lips.

I could feel Stalon's eyes on me, I tried not to look as excited as I felt, tried not to smile quite as big.

I didn't realize, but they'd all begun to come forth, closing in on us. Not in the hostile manner I would have expected, but gradual, leisurely.

Were they still nervous?

They came in, after a while, without the anxious distrust. I could see the similarities more now; their eyes widened when they heard a noise, their ears became erect.

Their eyes softened when looking at each other – indirectly of course – they avoided Stalon's gaze as if he would burn holes through their skulls.

He was like them, so much like them.

"You're happier here than at home." Stalon examined me carefully, his eyes whispering of a profound guilt.

We sat at the edge of the cave mouth, Stalon leaning back on the rough curves of the stone wall, his eyes were closed but his expression was not blank.

I wrapped my arms around my legs, studying the curve of his neck and shoulder, into the muscle that bulged there.

Then, the smooth plates of his chest, the lumpy slashing scar that lay embedded in his flesh. Down to the abnormally solid bumps, which served as the abdominal muscles no seventeen-year-old had.

Dark, cool shades of blue and purple cast shadows over his face, I was afraid he would sink into them and vanish – just like that.

"Do you think it wrong of me?" He said at last, opening his eyes, which had darkened. Lovely sapphire blue looking black and the sweet caramel brown appeared the colour of coffee.

I tucked choppy hairs behind my ears, running the smooth bulb of my tongue ring across the roof of my mouth. "No." My words wavered in the air about us. Stalon laughed lowly, running his fingers through his white hair.

"And here, all this time, you thought you had it bad." He said and I snorted, the memory of mine and Maria's last conversation coming to mind. I'd screamed at her in the car.

I shook my head, "Only human bad." Tucking my face into my knees I gazed out at the wolves. Watched as they nudged each other, mouthing each other's muzzles and bumped bodies.

Every little action it seemed meant something, whether it was worth regarding, I gaped at them. They looked back at me, eyes white with the darkness, and I wondered if they were as amazed as I was.

The more I observed – the more I stared – I began to feel less apart of this world. I was a piece of a larger, stupider whole, oblivious to this…this lunacy.

"You don't realize how much I've longed for, 'human bad.'" Stalon sneered, "An argument, a mistake, a loss. It's the things I've dreamed about – normality."

I shifted on the grass, pulling out thin green blades with my nails as I listened. "How ungrateful," he said bitterly.

It was dark in Stalon's room, despite the bright moon light pouring in from the window. I'd lain still for hours, certain that I could fall asleep, at dinner I was dreadfully tired.

Dinner. My lips fidgeted restlessly.

Stalon had broken a wineglass, crushed it completely in his fist. Claret wine had gone everywhere, staining the crisp white table cloth Mrs. Piece had lain out hours earlier.

"This is wonderful Cheyenne," Eben said, leaning forward to look beyond his sons at her. She smiled softly, but did not answer. It was some kind of meatloaf, it did look good, but I hadn't eaten meat-anything in two years.

Instead I stared at my plate, thinking of the wolves from this afternoon. My fingertips were still warm with the memory of the soft undercoat of their ruffs.

Stalon sat beside me, at the end of the table, his index finger moving around the rim of his Mother's slender wineglass. I considered him a moment, my eyes flickering between the glass's ruby contents and Stalon's sceptical expression.

Twenty minutes and he'd had exactly two sips from the tall, fine glass. Beck cleared his throat, but neither Stalon nor I returned him with an upward glance.

"How's the Monkshood withdraw?" Beck sounded almost humoured by the idea.

Stalon's eyes did not leave his wine when he spoke, his fingertip sliding gently down the thin glass. "I was never addicted." His voice was detached, unaffected like his eyes.

Beck snorted, I looked away from my plate to the shimmering metal, marble handled knife beside it. At the jagged, serrated teeth. This was better than a butter knife.

Stealthily I brought my hand from my lap to the table gripping the cold handle between my fingers.

It hit me then, that I hadn't good aim with anything but my fists. Perhaps I could attempt knocking him out? No, I had punched Stalon in the mouth and he didn't so much as blink, if I hit a werewolf I would just break my wrist again.

I began sliding it from the table, careful not to draw attention to my plans. Stalon's free hand rose, unhooking my fingers from the blade handle and holding them in contempt.

When I looked up at him his eyes were not on me, still on the wineglass. I tugged against his hand to no avail, could Therians read minds as well?

"It's Harley is it?" Eben was saying, both Stalon and I perked up, looking to the head of the table where his uncle sat beside Beck, elbows resting on the table.

I nodded silently, and he continued. "My brother tells me that you're in love with him." Eben did not so much as give Stalon a glance simply pointed his fork in our direction.

Mrs. Piece shuffled, opening her mouth to jump to our defence when Beck gave her a look. Cheyenne glowered at him, dropping her utensils to her plate noisily and, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sucking in a deep breath I darted my eyes toward Stalon who was still staring into the depths of his wineglass. His fingers had begun to retreat, drawing away from mine to fall off the edge of the table.

I nodded, collecting my voice. "I do," Leander and Octavian snorted, chuckling between themselves.

My skin began to crawl, my throat so dry I reached out for my own untouched wineglass and brought it to my lips.

Eben's coarse features seemed to lighten with entertainment. "How old are you girl?"

I clenched my teeth a moment, grating my nails across the delicate fabric of the tablecloth. "Sixteen," there was a natural defensive attitude to my voice, built up over six years of puberty and dealing with bratty siblings.

Apparently, it dissolved when speaking to werewolves. I should tell Maria there is in fact a cure for my 'defiant, unladylike bitch-ness.'

Eben smirked wickedly, his eyes forming arcs. He looked very much like Beck now. "You're wasting your time," He shrugged nonchalantly and his sons could not hold their laughter.

Stalon remained as unresponsive as a corpse.

"You're wrong." And the bitch is back!

Eben cocked a brow at me, tilting his head to gather a better look at his nephew. He grunted, giving me a short once-over and returning to his dinner.

_Smash!_

I jumped, whirling my head back to find the beautiful glass destroyed. Stalon's fingers were doused in wine, splatters of red appearing like blood across the tablecloth.

Cheyenne gasped, "Stalon!" Her reaction was mild, I thought. She jerked back in her chair, rushing to his side to flutter her hands around the mess, darting off to the kitchen in search of cleaning equipment.

He looked at me a moment, opening his hand as he pushed back in his chair. Stalon's hand bled relentlessly, and as he stood he shook the glass from between his fingers.

Gazing up from his mess, Stalon peered down the long table to his Father, who leered back at him.

Shaken from my thoughts, I heard a terrible ripping noise. Stalon's arm, stretched over my hips above the sheets surged wildly, his nails cutting into the mattress.

My head jerked to the side, to find Stalon. His face, shoulders and chest shining in the darkness. His eyelids wrinkled over, they were shut so tightly. Stalon's Adam's apple jolted upward, suiting the quiet screech that snuck passed his lips.

"Hey." My voice was drowsy; I rolled to my side to shake him. Stalon's eyes fluttered wide, ebony like the night sky beyond his window.

There was fear in them at first, then fury and slowly recognition. Stalon buried his face in my chest, his breaths cold and hard against the light tank top I wore.

Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, my palms slipped, how could he feel so cold and be so sweaty?

His white hair tickled my face, his hands coiled in the material of my shirt. Breathy rasps became sharp, loud whimpers and I clutched him to me.

"It's okay," I said, wondering to myself if this was how Mom felt when she was the one comforting me after bad dreams. "None of it's real." I even quoted her.

Except, with Stalon, I realized, everything is real.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

I remembered the first time I saw Stalon naked.

His skin was pale, glistening with perspiration and, every muscle in his body it seemed, was shaking violently. His hair had been in his face, and when he looked at me, he almost looked apologetically derisive. He was cold and tired, breathless and inhuman.

Now I stood in our locker bay, listening to Rachel describe the marvel that was Gabriel Sinclair undressed.

The night of the party, I had lost her, she had just miraculously disappeared. Now I knew why. Why she hadn't thought of phoning me in the morning to let me know she was still alive and well.

And I'd been right; she did not wake up at home.

The idea of Gabriel with her was enough to make me want to vomit. I was nauseous just talking to him myself.

But Rachel – oblivious to this – appeared to be in bliss with the mere memory of the event. She was drunk with him.

"Th-that's…wonderful Rach." I nodded, speaking in a hushed murmur. She giddily clasped her hands, her long hair bouncing everywhere as she jumped up and down.

"So you were wasted and taken advantage of." My words were nonchalant, emotionless. I clapped my hand over my mouth. Why did I say that? _Why did I say that?_

Rachel looked at me over the thick rims of her round glasses, examining me carefully. She smirked wickedly, "Well at least one of us can get some."

I winced, working hard not to let my emotions display on my face. Shaking my head I reached up and straightened my headband, biting my lip. "I didn't mean that." I said quietly, "I'm sorry."

She shrugged flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I'm not." I gawked at her, Rachel sauntering off without a second glance.

My stomach knotted when she paused, spinning on her heels to glower at me. "Look, Virgin Mary, don't be jealous." Rachel looked me over harshly, then grinned widely. "See you in English!"

Placing my hand on our locker I blew out a breath. Why did I say that? I'd been intending to say congratulations, but that came out instead. **Word vomit**, I thought, **that's what it was.**

I sighed heavily, clenching my teeth, "Virgin Mary." I repeated.

She didn't need to be so mean about it – I did apologize after all. Besides, Gabriel reached new levels of creepy in my books. Why would I be jealous?

So Rachel had her gorgeous new boy-toy, Gabriel wasn't the first and he wouldn't be her last.

"What's wrong?" I looked up hoping to see Stalon; instead Michael came to my rescue. His auburn eyes looked genuinely concerned, but I knew him too well to fall into them.

"Nothing – Rachel and Gabriel huh?" I spoke gently, watching the cogs spin in Michael's head. And after a long moment he shrugged.

"Yeah, she'll get bored sooner or later." I watched him fiddle with his lock, Michael's expression one of frustration as he jerked on the round piece of metal. "You're back with Stalon I hear."

For an instant, I was gone, sucked into a memory of last weekend.

Stalon was laughing, "No, see just watch." He pulled me under his arm, pointing to the wolf who had tackled him the day before. It's grey ruff nearly blue in the sunlight, his vivid green eyes relaxed and bright when he approached another of his kind.

I looked to Stalon, whose smile had widened to show his teeth. Her fur was chestnut brown, but her underbelly looked soft and gold, and her eyes were beautiful and grey.

Confused, I watched the grey wolf swing his big head and Stalon snorted a snicker when the chestnut trotted away.

"I hate it when they do that." Stalon said, I gave him a befuddled glance. He appeared apologetic for a moment, then grinned. "Play hard-to-get."

"What do you mean?" I questioned Stalon sighed, about to explain when his eyes widened, his attention returning to the scene before us. I turned back quickly, in time to see her throw her paws over his neck, the chestnut wolf's red tongue darting in and out.

"Finally," Stalon exhaled roughly. "They're like human girls Tink – in some ways – and they get a kick out of seeing us run around."

I smirked. Perhaps the line wasn't so thick after all. "What're they doing?" I mumbled as the two disappeared into the shadow of the trees.

"Flirting, in a word," Stalon shrugged. "There isn't an alpha couple, and with all the police out looking for me my pack and other groups have been being killed by mistake."

I pushed my tongue ring out and rolled the bar across my top lip, not wanting to listen to what he was saying.

The police, the hunters…they were after this Thing. What would they do if they found out it was a human – it was a person just like them?

"If there are more of us, there is a better chance of survival. The majority of the wolves here are pups grown up from the leader that I wiped out." Stalon's voice had lost the humour from before; his expression too had become grave and distressed.

"So what-" I pointed to the tree line "-they're, like, mates now?"

Stalon nodded, his eyes brightened when he glanced down at me now. "Wolves mate for life."

I swallowed audibly feeling my face redden; I couldn't find my voice right away. "I thought that was just a myth."

He tilted his head to the side, "Sometimes, if one passes away they'll find another, but it's only for a continuation – the passion isn't there."

Stalon's arm tightened around me, "Besides, I'm just a myth too."

I shrugged a shoulder, pushing the remembrance back. "Y-yeah, we are, um, so the blonde at the party?"

Michael made a face, pulling his books from his locker. "Laura Wheeler."

A loud laugh tore from the back of my throat; Michael scowled at me as I tried to catch my breath. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, yeah I know, I don't even remember what happened." His eyes bulged and then he shook his head. "Woke up on the floor of her living room, and when I was getting my clothes her Mother chased me out of the house."

I snorted, holding my breath to keep from giggling. Michael rolled his eyes at me, shutting the ugly beige door. He smirked, looking at me deviously, "You're one to talk."

Gasping, I looked at him seriously; nobody had told me what I did when I was drunk. I hadn't even bothered to go on Rachel's Facebook to see the pictures I was in.

Of the whole night, I remembered someone biting me in the forest, being saved by Stalon and, being dragged home. After that it was the horrible hang over and, learning about the impossible creatures known as Therianthropes.

"What happened?" My voice was hesitant. Of course I was curious, but people had a tendency to do crazy things under the influence.

"Y-you don't remember?" Michael looked incredulous, running his fingers through his shaggy hair. I shook my head a fraction and he laughed. "Kyle Morison wrote his number on your chest-"

I interjected, "His penmanship is awful – and that marker took _forever_ to wash off."

Michael laughed, "I bet. Anyways, the last time I saw you that night you were-" Michael frowned "-kissing Cole Booth – you know, Monica's older brother – and then you vanished."

He paused to straighten his sweater, while I mulled over his explanations. Monica Booth and I hadn't been friends since she poured chocolate milk over my head in grade six. Not to mention her brother was three years my senior and in grade 13, taking a victory lap this year.

I wanted to be sick.

"Stalon was drunk too," Now he sounded excited. "That guy is _mean _when he's hammered."

My brow furrowed. Stalon mean? His Father picked on him on a daily basis and he didn't so much as raise his voice. "What do you mean?" I asked, pursing my lips while I waited.

Michael grinned, "Dude punched Cole out after he heard – broke his nose! – there was blood _everywhere_. He looked like he was gunna murder the poor guy, and then he just took off. It was so weird."

Took off to come save me from a crazy snake-person. I tittered humourlessly, "Yeah, weird."

The bell screeched, and I was glad to have a break from Michael. Turing to my locker, I tried not to think of what Rachel had said, I gathered my sketch pad and pencil case, hurrying off to art.

Miss Thompson was gliding about the classroom, lost in her own musings while she prepared a slide show. There were no easels today, and I was somewhat depressed about it.

"What's wrong hon, you look miserable." Miss Thompson said suddenly. Her thick, colourful bracelets clattering together as she kneeled over my table, her elbows down and her chin in her palm.

Sucking in a breath I shrugged, "It's nothing, just tired." Miss Thompson rolled her eyes, curling her unruly hair around her middle finger as she looked me over.

"You know Harley, if there is anything you want to talk to me about, I'm all ears." She smiled gently, and for a second I honestly considered spilling my guts to her.

Instead I ran a hand through my short hair and grinned up at her. "Um, I'm just kind of stressed out." I lied, "My friend and I are kind of going through a rough patch."

Miss Thompson gave me a sympathetic nod, the class filing in gradually taking their usual seats. Gabriel sat down beside me, looking abashed when I gave him a glare.

"Something wrong?" He asked innocently, shaking ebony hairs from his face and crossing his arms across the table. Miss Thompson flicked out the lights, starting her slide show on VanGough.

Miss Thompson clasping her hands the same way Rachel had earlier, her eyes looking vague and marvelled.

"You and Rachel." I hissed quietly, as not to disturb the lesson. Gabriel made a face when I said Rachel's name, his hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, right, Slater." He pursed his lips tasting the name, as if it was a hard candy in his mouth. Gabriel considered me and then shrugged, waving his hand whimsically.

I snorted, feeling venom on my tongue. "You-you stay away from her." He looked at me, lips fidgeting before he laughed, Miss Thompson pausing to glance at us.

"Excuse me." Gabriel said, still chuckling, "Please continue." He sighed then, collected his composure while Miss Thompson picked up where she left.

"Are you threatening me Miss Tinker?" He was far too amused, I wished for just one day I could be Stalon, just so I could tear Gabriel Sinclair apart.

"Just leave her alone, she can do so much better than you." I snapped Carley Bathe, seated behind us, loudly shushing me.

"Oh, how I doubt that, your friend was simply – what do you call it…" His words faded away, Gabriel's haughty expression becoming contemplative. "Oh! A One Night Stand."

I had to hold my breath, knotting my hands together to keep from hitting him. Gabriel snickered, "Does that surprise you? Is that not what she does on a regular basis?"

"_You shut up_!" I shouted, Miss Thompson gasping, the lights came on again and when I looked she was staring wide-eyed at me. My eyes fleeted around the room, flickering to the numerous faces on me.

"Harley-" Miss Thompson began, but I wasn't hearing her, scraping back in my chair to stomp by her and out of the room. I walked slowly down the hall, giving Miss Thompson the opportunity to come after me if she wished, but she didn't.

I slipped outside, icy wind clawing at my bare arms through the black fishnet sleeves. I could see her from here, or rather, I could hear her. Rachel's laughter.

And I hurried down the walk way, to the smoking section; both Michael and Rachel grew silent upon my arrival. Rachel gave me a sour glance, "Hey Mary."

"Shut up." I growled, grabbing her arm to lead her a few paces from her brother. Rachel yanked out of my grasp, "What's got your panties in a bunch?"

I could feel my patience dwindling. "Besides you? Gabriel Sinclair." Her eyes widened just at the mention of his name, my stomach twisted uncomfortably.

Rachel lifted her cigarette, taking a long drag. I watched the paper burn, her fingers tremble and her eyes close. My nose wrinkled when she blue a blue cloud into my face, Rachel smiling when I coughed.

"What about him?" She sneered, reminding me of Beck.

"He used you Rach-" She rolled exhaled loudly "-I just talked to him and he called you a One Night-"

I didn't get the chance to finish.

"Look Harls, why don't you just stop? I don't know why you do this it's, like, ever since your Dad boned your Aunt you get all squeamish about sex. I wasn't a One Night Stand, and just because he picked me and you got Mr. Can't-Say-Love, doesn't mean you have to be like this." Rachel took another drag, taking in my reaction.

My chest hurt. My eyes felt hot, burning hot, it took three lengthy seconds for me to figure out I was tearing up. "He-he.." I couldn't say it. Rachel looked amused.

I dug my nails into my palms. "She used him." Rachel rolled her eyes dramatically, "Harley, c'mon, you said it yourself – she looks like your mom. Like, get over it, it happened like ten years ago."

"Th-th-three years ago." I corrected, Rachel snapped her hip out tapping the long ashy end of her cigarette off. "And I'm…I'm not squ-squeamish."

Rachel grunted, "Yeah, do you even know how many guys were trying to get in your pants at the party? You're like, Ms. Look-but-don't-touch."

I shook my head frantically, "Because I l-"

"_Love_ Stalon," She cut in. "I know! It's so annoying, like hurry up and _do_ _it_ already – do you want a frigging engagement ring?"

I tried to breathe, but all that would come were husky half-breaths that came out in ghostly white figures. Rachel put her hand on my shoulder, smiling genuinely.

"Just let it go, I mean, what? Do you want them both, is that it? You can't have the cake and eat it too babes." She took her hand away and reached into her jean pocket, flinging something at me. "Do yourself a favour; I'll see you in English."

She walked away then. And I looked down into my hand where a small, silvery square packet laid staring back at me.

Rachel didn't see me in English class.

"Tinkerbelle." Dad was saying, running his hand over my hair in the van. We were still in the school parking lot, but he had come to pick me up over an hour ago.

I slapped his hand away, Dad looking at me as if I'd just smacked him across the face. "This is all your fault!" My voice seemed louder inside the car, much louder.

Now he donned a confused expression, drawing his hand back to place it in his lap. "Harley is this about-"

"Just take me home!" I screamed, and he obliged.

Dad didn't say anything more until we were almost home, seated in front of a temperamental light, that switched green just as quickly as it switched red.

I stared out the window, holding my breath to keep the hiccups silent. It hurt my throat, but the pain distracted me from all that Rachel had said.

Her voice was a constant biting hiss in the back of my mind, and I let the sharp edges of the condom packet dig into my fingers.

"Harley, Maria told me what happened." Dad began again cautiously, his eyes on the road. "I know I hurt you…I know you're angry with me but, sweetie, you have to understand something."

I glowered at him, Dad swallowing loudly, peering at me from the corners of his eyes. "Jesus, you look so much like your Mother."

Dad pushed his glasses up, running his hand over his face, scrubbing at his eyes as he blew out a sharp breath.

"It was an accident," His words were muffled by his hand. "It never should have happened, but Harls, I was so broken."

I looked at him, listened carefully to the words coming from his mouth. My eyes narrowed, the van picked up it's familiar pace again, and Dad finally risked a gaze at me.

"I'm going away Emerrett." Was all I had to say, and he was broken again.

Pressing my forehead against the cold window, I watched as the trees came by in a blur of green, the many houses flashing by in numerous colours. It gave me a headache.

When we got home I climbed out of the van, Jack bounding up on the living room window, his barks coming through the glass. "I'll see you when I get home, Tinkerbelle." Dad intoned his voice so low.

I swept into the house, swiftly closing the door as Jack rushed towards me. He jumped up, his paws on my shoulders as he staggered back and forth trying to keep his balance.

His blue eyes assessed me carefully, read the emotions in my face and he slunk back down, nuzzling my hand with his cold nose.

Running my fingers through his fur, I heard Maria clear her throat, when I glanced up she offered me something red.

Narrowing my eyes I reached out and took it from her, unfolding it guardedly, unsure of what she had done to it.

Between my fingers I held my Mother's cashmere sweater, my heart sank, my lips quivering uncontrollably. Maria scratched her temple and then licked her lips. "It-It was your Mother's."

"I know." I snapped, memorizing the soft material and trying to remember how it felt on her.

It was warm when she wore it, and it smelt like cake – Mom was always baking something – with a hint of Dad's cologne. I remember burying my face in it, hearing the steady thrum of her heart behind her breasts.

I clenched my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut. When I did look at Maria again, she was watching me – waiting for me.

"Is this some kind of truce you're proposing?" I demanded, Maria stared me deep in the eyes, raking her fingers through her red tresses.

"I-I just thought-" She tried to say.

I shoved the sweater into her chest. "I don't believe in truces." Maria gasped, holding the red sweater tightly to her. Kicking my shoes off, I hung up my coat and picked up my back pack.

Maria bit down on her lip, I considered her a second, taking a last look at the sweater and snorted. "Take no prisoners," And I went to my room.

"Harley, do you miss her?" Bridgette asked, lying on the floor of my room beside Jack, drawing moustaches on the celebrities in my _Seventeen_ magazines.

"Who?" I asked, reading over notes for my math test next week. Bridgette's squeaky permanent marker stopped it's relentless cries, and I peered up from my note book.

"Mommy." Bridgette said as if this should be obvious. I turned my attention back to my work, reading over my messy handwriting as I thought.

"No." I murmured, Bridgette gasped, causing Jack to jerk out of his dream. He gazed around the room, scrutinized us both and laid his head back down, closing his eyes.

She touched her wild red hair, pulling a tight curl down her face, crossing her eyes to look at it. "I do."

I shook my head, closing my book and reaching over to my nightstand, throwing another magazine at her. "Trust me, she's not worth it."

Bridgette didn't respond, her marker squealing again. I rolled over on my bed, looking up at the ceiling. I dug around in my jean pocket, jabbing my index finger on something pointy.

Pulling the packet from my pocket I turned it, the silvery outside shimmering in the lamplight. "Hey Beach, who do you love?" I asked, feeling the circular bulge inside.

She gasped eagerly, "I love Daddy, and Elliott and, Jackie and, you and, Ben Madison."

I smirked, "Whose Ben Madison?"

Bridgette giggled, "This guy in my class…he said my hair was pretty today."

"Does he love you?" I questioned, reading the back of the packet while she mulled over her answer.

Bridgette took a moment longer than I'd expected, finishing up another moustache on Pamela Anderson. "I don't know. Elliott got real mad at me when I told him I loved Ben Madison."

"Did he?" I said, "Don't worry; he's gunna start liking girls sooner or later."

"Elliott says girls have cooties." Bridgette sounded doubtful, "Do you have cooties?"

I grinned, "I have lots of cooties. Hey, Beach did you kiss this Ben Madison?"

Bridgette giggled again, her marker squealing louder now. "No, I kind of want to – Elliott's going to tell him I have cooties and then he'll never kiss me."

I tucked the condom packet back in my jeans, "Pfft! Elliott's a boob." Bridgette laughed.

"Is kissing like what you and Stalon do?" Bridgette's voice got softer, fascinated.

I rolled back on to my stomach, glowering at her though she still just coloured in her book. My sister's face was as red as her hair.

"Hey! You evil little spy!" I snapped, Bridgette ducking her chin to her chest to hide her face beneath her veil of curls. My eyes narrowed on her, "If you ever tell-"

"I won't! I won't!" Bridgette howled, drawing an X over her heart. Bridgette was quiet again, and I studied her careful had as she coloured a large handlebar moustache on Paris Hilton.

"Hey, Harley, do you love Stalon?" She asked after a long while, glancing up at me when I nodded, she smiled widely. "You know, you kiss like Daddy and Maria kiss."

I stiffened, "Wh-what?" Bridgette read my face, realized she'd said something wrong and scampered to her feet. She was running down the stairs screaming before I had the chance to nab her.

Storming back into my room, I snatched up my sneaker-phone, dialling Stalon's phone number into the treads. I listened as it rang, several times it went off before someone answered.

"Hello?" Mrs. Piece answered, her voice bright when I told her who it was, "Hold on a second Harley."

There was a scuffle, and then a breathy exhale, "Tink?" Stalon said, he hadn't been at school today, so I filled him in on the event he had missed.

"Rachel slept with Gabriel? Gabriel Sinclair?" Stalon's voice was not as it had been mere seconds before, now it was sharp and brooding.

"Y-yes." I stammered, flipping the silvery packet on my fingers. "He's a jerk."

Stalon snorted, "He's not just a jerk Harley. What are you doing right now?"

I shoved the packet under my leg, "Umm, reading my notes." Stalon was wordless for a few seconds, "Would I be intruding if I came over."

"No!" **Too eager.** I thought, smacking myself with the heel of my hand. Stalon chuckled, "I'll see you soon then."

I hung up. Soon. By soon did he mean human soon, which was like an hour, or Stalon soon which was two minutes? I jumped up from bed, collecting things from my floor and jamming it in my closet and hamper.

Running downstairs I found Elliott eating an apple and watching cartoons. "Where's Bridgette?" I demanded, my brother giving me a hostile look.

"Downstairs with Dad." He said, deciding against whatever conniving little plans he'd been making. Probably figuring I would pound him if he went through with them.

"Maria?" I continued, Elliott's eyes drifting back to the television for a moment.

"She went somewhere, getting food or something." He sounded agitated, willing me away so he could continue doing nothing in peace.

I yelped when there was a knock on the door, Elliott shushing me and turning the volume up on the TV. Running to the door, I found Stalon, his nostrils flaring.

"Did you run all the way here?" I asked, brow creasing. He grinned, breathing in quickly as he nodded.

I grabbed his arm, yanking him inside, Elliott's eyes following us upstairs.

Stalon's eyes travelled around my room, "You cleaned it." He pointed out at last and I nodded. "Listen, I have to tell you something."

"Yeah." I answered, not truthfully listening as I pulled the long curtains of my windows. Stalon perched himself on the foot of my bed, watching me dart around.

When I sat next to him, he continued. "Gabriel…isn't exactly human." He put this gently, testing the waters before diving in. My previous excitement was crushed, and I fell backwards into the mess of sheets.

"He's a werewolf too right?" I hissed, glaring up at the ceiling.

"He used to be." Stalon granted, dropping his head into his hands, waiting for me to process this. "He isn't any more though."

I snapped upright, "What does that mean?"

Stalon sighed, "I didn't think much of it, and he didn't seem to be hurting anyone here. I just wanted you to be safe – which you are. It's just now...now I'm starting to wonder."

"What're you getting at?" I watched him from the corners of my eyes, Stalon's lovely eyes fixing on me.

"He's a vampire." His hand jolted out, keeping me upright. I felt dizzy, I sat beside him in two classes, he'd waited with me for my bus – he fucked Rachel!

Something of a scream taunted my lips, my eyes bugging. Stalon's expression did not change, he remained unruffled and calm. But his eyes – _his eyes_…they reflected a fear that made my heart skip.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

I pushed Stalon's hands above his head, he could have over powered me if he wanted, but what I was quickly learning about Therians – they had short attention spans.

How did we get here?

I don't know. We'd been talking about Gabriel Sinclair, Gabriel who had used Rachel – conned her into his bed the night of the party.

Rachel.

Why did I even care so much about what he did to her now? After what she had said, what wounds she had opened and sprinkled salt on, what did she matter to me?

So, Gabriel was a vampire, so he had been murdered ages ago – before Stalon and I were even thought of. He didn't want me; frankly Stalon wasn't sure what Gabriel wanted.

He hadn't been feeding here, in fact according to Stalon; Gabriel had been going to great lengths to keep himself from feeding here.

What were the key questions here? Why Gabriel was here and how was he out during the day?

Right now, I didn't care very much for these questions. I wanted to focus on human problems – mostly human – and human feelings, and human desires.

I was afraid of releasing Stalon's wrists. He'd be able to stop me if I did, then again, he could probably do that anyway.

"Tink," He said, I was breathless, woozy with the thirst for air. Stalon flexed his arms, effortlessly rolling his wrists out of my grasp. "No."

"Yes." I snapped, capturing his mouth again. Stalon grunted, his hands situating themselves on my waist. And then, as if an alarm had gone off in his head, he turned his face away flipping us over.

"Harley _please_! Stop!" Stalon was begging, and yet, he was the one straddling me. His legs pinned my arms at my sides, I never realized he was so heavy – I could barely move!

I wriggled, kicking my feet as I tried to worm my way out of it. Stalon's hands dropped to the bed below us, his nails grasping at the duvet. "Please," His eyelids wrinkled over. "I can't do this."

I lay still, too hurt to torture him. "Why?" Stalon's brow wrinkled, a menacing rumble coming from his chest, and when he opened his eyes they were black.

"Because you make me lose control." Stalon's hands went to his face, his long fingers pushing against his temples before, ravaging his hair.

Hot. My face was hot. I could feel it begin at my jaw, then the warmth slithered to my hairline, it was a – what is it called? Head rush!

"No, we'll be super careful, you won't-" Stalon interjected.

"No _I_ won't and these-" I shuddered as he brought his hands down, before us both. Ugly, sinister black claws advanced from his fingertips. "-I'll shift – I'll hurt you."

What was this emotion? Disappointment? Frustration? Whatever it was, it made me want to scream. If only I could build a time machine and travel back to stop Stalon's moronic ancestor.

"This isn't fair!" I groaned, banging my heels on the edge of my bed. He sighed, shaking his head, "If I could stop I would, but I can't…I can't help it."

Stalon pushed away from me, standing in the middle of my room, looking as remorseful and shattered as my Father had in the van. "I'm sorry Tink," Stalon's voice shook slightly.

I glowered up at my ceiling, rolling the bulb of my tongue ring along the roof of my mouth. It was too quiet, as if I lay instead of on my bed, but underwater.

There was only the rush of blood inside my head, the smooth, agitated breaths slipping over my lips. Stalon did not stir, and for a second I wondered if he were even still there.

Sitting up I ran a hand through my hair, examining his penitent expression. Stalon did not say anything, his lovely, imperfect eyes diffident while he watched me.

I opened my mouth, when a whistle interrupted me. Stalon turned to my bedroom door, striding across the room to draw it open. Jack looked up at him, his blue eyes wide and bright, they then shifted around him to where I sat on the bed.

In the four seconds that passed I watched my dog's body language, the way I imagined Stalon would the wolves.

He went from concerned and slouching, to puffy and furious. Jack's nostrils began to flare his lips curling upwards in outrage. He eyed Stalon vehemently.

Stalon's response, startled me, and yet I believe some part of me had expected it. His back straightened, his chest filled out and a snarl ripped from his clenched teeth.

Jack barked, but jumped backward, his eyes frightened when they fell on me. Stalon slammed my door, his fists at his sides.

"Wh-why?" The first words out of my mouth, and they were not even a complete sentence. Mr. Monroe would be so displeased.

Stalon looked at me, furious. I went rigid, clutching my duvet in my hands. Why did it seem I was alone when I was not?

I saw, the black fill his eyes.

It reminded me of the paint coming from my brushes in art class. The way the paint would swirl in the water, thin films of ghostly blue or pink. And it would diffuse, turning the clear, glassy water the same foggy colour.

The change began in his pupils, the inky colour an eerie mist at first. Then, the same way the water would change, the colour conquered the rest of his eye.

Dark, scary looking veins began to show against his skin, like they were trying to lash out. I felt the bud of a shriek form in my chest, but a knot in my throat refused it freedom.

Stalon leaned forward, the way one would to take a step, and I slid back further on my bed. But he did not move, it was like his feet were glued to the floor. No matter how hard he tried to come at me he could not.

Will, I grasped, human will denying him movement.

This was not Stalon. His voice rang like a school bell in my mind:

"_Yes, it's something of a double personality. Sometimes it's a wilful change and others, others are involuntary and I kind of…lose myself."_

My mouth was dry, a desert again. The awful, arid taste of sand was between my teeth and grating against my tongue. The texture was terrible, crunchy and bitter – sticking to the damp of my gums and throat.

I found my feet moving, slipping on the fabric of my bedding, and then trembling on the cold wood of my floor. I slunk hesitantly toward him, Stalon still trying to take that first step.

He growled when I put my arms around him, squeezing him to me. "Jack didn't mean it." I said quietly, "He's scared. He's always been scared."

Inhaling I smelt trees on him, the refreshing smell of earth and grass. "I'm not though," my voice was timid and Stalon snorted. "I'm sorry, I just wanted this _so_ bad, because of Rachel. But, I…I lo-ove you so I'll wait. You won't hurt me."

Stalon exhaled heavily, the rigid tremors rising in his body ceased, and I felt his hand graze over my hair. "Harley." He sounded tired, breathless.

Smiling into Stalon's shirt, I held him tighter. "Why did you do that?"

"Animals…they know about us. They're much brighter than humans," I could hear the grin in his voice. "Jack's afraid I'm going to eat you."

I laughed, feeling the fear diminish in my taut stomach. "He challenged me, and I kind of forgot I was a person for a little while."

"You changed." I stated, my words muffled by his clothes, my eyes closed.

The muscles within Stalon's stomach relaxed when he exhaled, "Not completely. You were terrified. Imagine if that had happened and we were…" His voice became more and more apprehensive, I could feel him pushing me away. 

When I looked up his expression mirrored my own only moments ago, the sheer horror on his face made my heart race. And Rachel though _I_ was squeamish, Stalon went into shock at the very thought.

"B-but that won't happen." I tried to speak without sounding worried; Stalon looked me hard in the eye and whimpered. "C'mon now, I don't think you could do that."

"Harley I have _killed_ people!" His voice was but a whisper but the panic there made it feel as if he had shouted. "I wasn't even changed – lucky enough for you – what if I couldn't have stopped myself."

I twisted my fingers in the well-worn fabric of his grey t-shirt. "You did." My voice was pitiful, barely a murmur.

Stalon closed his eyes. "This time."

I ground my teeth together, sucking on the smooth bar through my tongue.

He looked as if he was going to combust, Stalon's arm around me juddering against my back, his forehead wrinkling beneath the white wisps of his hair.

"Don't you think I want to do this with you, regardless of what Rachel said? When I saw you at the party it took everything I had not to just…" Stalon's voice grew hoarse, and I was glad his eyes were closed, as to not allow him to see my embarrassed smirk.

"It's okay," I patted his chest. "I'll wait for you – as long as it takes."

Every time I kissed Stalon now, there was a voice in the back of my head. _"He wants you,"_ it would say, _"He wants you."_ It made me shiver, made my foot fly up. Then, I remembered who I was kissing, what I was kissing. And they were not human.

I drew away from Stalon, waiting for him to collect his sense, when he looked at me I said, "This necklace." And reached for the chain to pull the whole thing out from my shirt.

Stalon raised a brow at me, I sat up, admiring how good he looked even while lying on the floor of my bedroom, beneath me.

"It's not just an ordinary necklace is it?" When I asked this his eyes moved sheepishly away from me. Stalon shook his head and my eyes tapered. "What does it do?"

Stalon's big shoulders rolled in a shrug. "It keeps you safe," He sighed.

"But how, it's just a necklace." I lifted the shimmering gem up to scrutinize the gorgeous howling wolf.

Stalon reached up to touch it, his hand recoiling seconds later as if he'd been shocked. "Once it's on, you're the only one who can take it off. The silver wards off vampires and Lycans."

"But your Mom wears the same one." I shook my head, wishing I hadn't asked at all. I should have expected it would have to do with the supernatural.

"True," He granted, looking guilty. "To be honest, I just needed you to have some form of silver around your neck for…protection. The wolf is more or less a stake of claim, the only important part."

I rested my fists on my hips, "You're sneaky."

Stalon shrugged, "I knew it was pointless to try and keep you from Gabriel. So I thought if I could find a way to keep him from biting you, it would be safer."

I grinned, "That isn't what I meant." I lifted my chin confidently, "What of this 'stake of claim'?"

His face flushed. "It's just what we do, I can't go around peeing on trees can I?"

I laughed. "No, I guess not."

There was a knock at my door, I scowled. "What?" I could feel Stalon's eyes on me still, my heart skipping every other beat.

"Dinner." It was Dad, which automatically made me angry.

"I'm not hungry." I lied, in truth, I was dying. My stomach had been aching for the longest time; I just didn't want to leave my bedroom yet.

"Maria got Chinese." Dad sounded hopeful, and my belly grumbled noisily, Stalon chuckling under his breath.

It donned on me, what Bridgette had said. Was she lying? Dad wouldn't really do that to me…would he? It wouldn't be the first time Bridgette lied to get my attention.

I listened to the quiet sounds of his feet, hesitant at first, then sluggish and relaxed, natural.

Annoyance, no, fury. It frightened me, this feeling. Like a knot sitting inside me, it was heavy – a bowling ball. It made my stomach hurt, made my insides twist and burn.

I leaned over myself, pressing my face into the warm material of Stalon's t-shirt. His hands brushed over my back in smooth circles, counter clockwise – like Mom.

"I don't feel so good." My words were a sour mumble, stifled by his clothes. I memorized the sounds Stalon's chest made while he breathed, swift and easy. The soft thud of his heart, protected by layers of muscle and cages of bone, it was consistent.

Mom was not.

"I can tell," He leaned me back, brushing his thumbs under my eyes. "You need to eat something."

"He's still with her." My voice cracked, shattering an octave as my words slithered over my tongue. "I know it!"

Stalon looked frantic, cool and collected on the outside, but I could see it. In his eyes. They always told me too much. He shook his head, white hairs flaying about his face, "Easy. You don't know-"

"Yes I do!" My voice echoed in my room, ricocheting back at me in violent lashes. The knot in my stomach grew, wildfire in the depths of my chest now.

I let him pull me to my feet, the feeling in my legs lost to my own outrage. My feet were numb on the cold of the stairs when we reached them, Stalon's hand firmly resting on the small of my back.

Tucking chunks of magenta hair behind my ears, we were greeted by thick scents of spices, herbs, sweet sauces and, warm egg rolls.

Maria gave me a sharp once-over, her mouth opening widely to snap at something, then closing as if I wasn't worth her words. I gnashed my teeth together, scanning the table for any sharp objects I could throw at her.

Bridgette met my gaze only once, before she was staring into her plate. Elliott was bragging about something that happened in gym – it sounded like he'd scored a goal in soccer.

Dad was placing different cardboard boxes on the table, Elliot's eyes lighting up with each and every one. Stalon and I sat wordlessly, I tried to wiggle my toes, it felt like they weren't even there. Only pins and needles.

Stalon sat beside me, at the end of the table. On his other side sat Bridgette, looking as nonchalant as a nine-year-old can: Completely ignoring us, a big, guilty grin on her mouth.

My hand itched, digging into the informal, hideous flower print tablecloth. Maria must have put it out; we hadn't used it since Mom left.

The fabric pulled at my fingernails, causing the tender nerves beneath to sting. I thought, that perhaps I could just scratch all the flowers off of the cloth. One petal after the other.

"Excuse me, Mr. Tinker, for not announcing myself when I arrived." Stalon said, even his voice made the tablecloth uglier.

Now that I'd been inside the Piece household, the terrifying mansion of secrets it is, I couldn't see Stalon sitting here with us.

He didn't even _belong_ here, knowing him now, he probably preferred being out in the forest eating – what exactly was a wolf's diet? Dogs? Deer?

My Dad waved Stalon's apology off, like I said, Rachel did it all the time.

Rachel. Gabriel.

Gabriel was a vampire, what if he bit her? Would Rachel tell me? A small voice stirred in the back of my mind, **"Would you tell her about Stalon?"**

No, never.

I sighed, how could I tell her something that wasn't mine to tell? My brow furrowed, what did he want with her – well it was obvious! – he wanted something to do, quite literally.

But why Rachel? Because she was close to me? No, because she was close to Stalon.

Gabriel was approaching it wrong, aggravating Stalon. Stalon never liked Rachel, somehow I doubted he would truthfully notice if she fell off the face of the earth.

It bothered me; however, it bothered me greatly. Rachel may have said all those nasty things, and she might get herself involved in a lot of stuff I don't like but, she was a person – she didn't deserve to be some twisted play thing.

My eyes wandered about the table. From the empty, blue porcelain plates, piles of steaming noodles, snow white rice and breaded balls of chicken, until I found my Father's face.

He looked regretful, depressed even for him. My lips pressed together in a hard line, he deserved it. Maria, I was sure, was the Devil incarnate. Sent to this earth to destroy my life – or what remained of it – from the inside out.

I missed Mom.

Or did I? Maybe I was just as angry at her as I was at Maria. She'd abandoned us, she didn't even say why or if she would ever be coming back. No, I didn't miss her at all. I hoped she was miserable wherever she was – I hoped she never came back.

Drawing my eyes from my Father, I found Stalon, his hand laying on the edge of the table. His fingers were tense, faint muscles there pulsating relentlessly.

His eyes were narrowed, lovely colours shrouded by a dread that was all too palpable. He was changing – not visibly, not a change that human eyes could see.

I wanted to reach out and squeeze his hand, as if that would force the Therian out of him.

Instead I watched it discreetly slip away, under the safety of the unsightly tablecloth. At least it was good for one thing. Stalon caught my gaze and strained to smile, he looked collected, composed and normal. On the outside.

"How did your spelling test go, Beach?" I glanced over at Dad, who was speaking quietly over mouthfuls.

Bridgette's face flooded with colour, her eyes brightening and she shrugged. "I got seven out of ten." Elliott laughed haughtily, Bridgette punching his arm.

Dad pursed his lips, pretending to think hard on whether or not she did good enough to have the test posted on the fridge.

He always ended up doing it anyways; our refrigerator was covered in papers. Even still, when he nodded, Bridgette squealed happily while Elliott rolled his eyes.

Maria sat silently, her eyes carefully plucking away at the teeny heaps of mixed vegetables, noodles and egg rolls on her plate.

She didn't say a word, or look up from her dinner, which I was glad for. I wasn't sure if I could keep myself from hitting her if she looked at me.

Stalon did not eat, and at first I thought perhaps he didn't like it. Then I figured, whatever was dominant right now, fancied it's meals still breathing when they were served.

I shuddered, squeezing my eyes shut at the thought of Stalon eating a…ugh! My sister's shrill voice broke my thought process, which I was grateful for, for the first time in sixteen years.

"Jackie!" She was cooing, lips puckered and hands clapping. I leaned around her to see Jack, sitting patiently in the living room, his blue eyes glowing in the shadow.

From the corners of my eyes I saw Stalon smirk. Jack knew better than to come in here, Stalon must've petrified him. That, or he knew better than to pester someone that could eat him if he wanted.

Bridgette quickly gave up, embarrassed that "her," dog wasn't listening at the moment. She turned back to her food, twirling a scarlet curl around her fingers.

I scrapped back in my chair, Maria piped up then. "Where are you going?" She sounded offended, like she'd _actually_ cooked all this.

My chair groaned as I pushed it in, turning on the balls of my heels and leaving the room, Maria's question lingering in the air uselessly.

Stalon followed me soon after, outside. We were down the driveway when my Dad popped his head out the front door. "Harley it's getting dark!" He sounded anxious, eyes darting about the yard.

I smiled, "Don't worry, we'll be right back." If he knew I was walking with the creature he feared so much, would he be so hysteric?

He watched us go, until we were well down the sidewalk, I worried he'd come after me with a flashlight and pepper spray. Again.

"Tell me something." I mumbled, Stalon's eyes burning into my skin. "Why Thor?"

He looked confused for a moment, then realized I meant Thor the Black's murdered German Shepard. Stalon looked remorseful, his eyes closing and his shoulders tensing.

"It…wasn't me. I try not to hurt people; it's just sometimes I lose my grip on things. Once in a while I can't even remember what happened, I just wake up in the middle of nowhere." He whispered, linking his fingers behind his head.

"You killed that hunter." I remarked bitterly, glaring at the slanted street lamp. Stalon exhaled noisily, his breath coming in wisps of misty white.

"Because he shot at my pack," Stalon intoned, his voice eager to defend. "They didn't do anything, he was after me, and I did what was necessary to protect my own."

"Your own." I hissed, "You're a person."

Stalon stopped, his eyes hard and malicious. "For how much longer? There is no large difference between them and me, I can't stop it, and I'm losing control more and more every time I change. Little by little."

"Don't say that." I'd lost my edge, my voice was too quiet, too scared.

Stalon sighed, his hand warm on my forearm. "I'm sorry it's just, I hate it – but I can't do anything to stop it." He clenched his teeth a moment. "It's not like I can just turn back and _ta-da! _everything's all better. They all shoot to kill Tink, and when they miss, I don't."

A shiver shot up my spine, "Then why Thor? Why the dogs?" I demanded, shouting now instead of whispering.

"I don't kill the dogs! Not on purpose-" Stalon ran his fingers through his hair restlessly "-you're forgetting that I'm not the most dangerous thing out there. Other Lycans have been here, Harley, my Father is here. I don't _want_ to hurt anyone."

"We-we-werewolves have been here?" My eyes bulged, Stalon making a face down at me.

"Sometimes, if it's one I can dispatch them without any serious damage." Stalon grunted, "But not all of them are nomads, and I'd be torn apart if there were a pack."

I had to grab his arm to stable myself. "What!"

"There's a huge difference Tink, what do I look like to you when I shift?" Was this a trick question? Stalon raised a brow to prompt me and I stuttered a little.

"A wo-wolf?" I murmured, examining his face carefully.

"Yeah, Lycans don't. They have more human features, massive hands, with very long fingers instead of paws, and they can walk on their hind legs. They have shorter ears and slicker fur." Stalon was talking too fast, and I struggled to keep a hold on all that he said.

I snorted, "That's kind of ugly." Stalon was a "pretty," wolf – if that made any sense. He didn't necessarily scare me as much as his description of a Lycan would.

"What-what about Octavian and Leander, you said four on one." I jabbed my index finger at him, Stalon cocking his head to the side thoughtfully.

"I know I did. And they would have killed me for certain, if I wasn't so fast. It's the one advantage Therians have over Lycans, our speed. They're stronger but if we can get away, they can't catch us." Stalon was grinning proudly now, looking to the horizon where the sun was setting.

Blurs of mauve curled into awkward curls of rosy, bright pink. Rough strokes of midnight blue dashed in and out from the shadows, spilling down into the warm reds and oranges. The sun a gorgeous ruby nimbus, seated on the edge of the treetops, ducking behind jagged mountains.

"But why?" I didn't understand, if Therians were killed by their own, wouldn't Stalon become a vampire like Gabriel?

My head was spinning, every time I thought about the world of Therians and Lycans I felt like I was going to be sick.

It didn't make sense, was there some invisible force creating all that we thought were silly works of fiction?

"They don't know what they do when they change Harley. Lycans are different than us, I know what I'm doing when I change, and they don't. My Dad would kill my Mom if he got the chance to." Stalon said this as if we were discussing school work. Pi roughly equals 3.142.

I shook my head, watching as Stalon smiled. "They're stupid, Lycans, gigantic masses of uninhibited rage. It was the reason we had to move here, did I ever tell you that?"

My eyebrows were arching to my hairline now, Stalon's lips twitched, his arms folding tightly over his chest when he began walking again.

"He kept killing people, Dad, there was one – Marissa Carlisle – a girl I had a huge crush on in public school-" Stalon looked down at me, laughing when I frowned "-it was our third week in grade nine, we kind of clung together the whole time."

I snorted, was the jealousy visible on my face? Still, I nodded for Stalon to continue, the knots of anticipation in my stomach tightening.

"I was walking her home, when I knew I shouldn't have been. It was a full moon and she could have seen me-" I interrupted him.

"When you say 'walking her home,' you mean…" I cocked a brow at him and Stalon blushed.

"Following her, in the trees a couple meters behind. When I sensed a Lycan – I hid from them back then, they terrified me. But I couldn't just _abandon_ her, so I tried to scare her, make her hurry home." Stalon paused to kick a pebble, and we watched it bounce off the pavement and across the street.

His expression grew morose, Stalon's eyes darkening. The lovely blue waves hardening like ice had frozen it over, a thick layer of unbreakable, glacial pain. While his brown eye seemed to harden, warm caramel curls thickening, concrete and intense.

"I was chasing her through the park behind her house; I could see the streetlights on her road but…" Stalon exhaled heavily, "I didn't get her there in time. And then we were both out in the open, he came out of nowhere and attacked us."

My breath caught in my throat. Stalon's hand moved over his chest where the long, lumpy scar lay beneath his t-shirt.

"I just felt so useless, and I was so scared. He was killing her, I knew, but every nerve ending in my body seemed to stop working. No signals would go to my brain, I couldn't move.

And then, I don't know, I panicked. He came after me, for a little while, then vanished again. I went back for her – I had to – and carried her home, left her on the back porch. She was bleeding all over me." Stalon made a face, scrubbing restlessly at his hands as if he could still see it there.

"What happened to her?" I questioned, my voice barely a whisper. Stalon's jaw muscles surged wildly beneath his flesh and he shook his head.

"She started to change, it started first with her attitude, Marissa was so innocent and gentle. Then, she started missing some school, screwing around with some of the guys I knew, started getting violent towards other students.

When I tried to help her she bit me, aggravated me on purpose, tried to get me to change in school." Stalon's voice cracked while he spoke.

He looked so tormented. "She messed with my head. And then, one night Marissa finally changed. She mauled one of the teachers leaving school and I had to put an end to it, I couldn't stand it, Marissa was the first Lycan I ever killed."

It took me a moment to find my voice, "Did she turn into a vampire?"

Stalon shook his head, "It has to be against your will, you have to be murdered. She charged me and I beat her, it was her fault. She just…died."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to update, I was working on the new sequel to "In Good Blood," long story short - I read the one that's already up here and I HAD to redo it because the one I have is a complete embarrassment. So I made this chapter kinda long... sorry bout that, I got into it lol. And I don't mean to be a bug, but could you check out my new sequel "In Black Blood" and tell me if I should just, ya know, chuck my laptop or shoot myself lmao. Anyways, please enjoy the chapter and let me know what ya think. Thanks so much!! :D

~Selene

* * *

I was running.

My Mother was on the beach with me, water around her ankles the foam lapping at her calves as the tide came in.

She wore a large white sunhat, her thick red tresses blowing in the late afternoon breeze. Glowing copper curls billowed around her face, grazing her glamorous lips.

She wore a white bikini, paint splatters and rhinestones garnishing the thin material. She was waving her hands at me, calling my name in her bell-like sing-song voice.

She smiled hugely, her foggy olive eyes shadowed warmly by her sunhat. Hot sand kicked up beneath my heels. I wore the green bathing suit that made me feel like the real Tinkerbelle. It had that frilly white skirt around the stomach, it bounced as I ran.

Her arms were wide, her laughter boisterous and loud despite the rumble of churning waves.

I stumbled in the slippery sand, my youthful six-year-old legs unable to carry me steadily over the uneven terrain. I kept my eyes on her arms, wide and waiting.

The sun baked my skin as I moved; I could feel it through the layers of sticky sunscreen lathered all over me. My heart raced with the sound of seagulls crying, water sloshing against the shore, my Mother's jubilant voice.

I was so close!

I lunged at her, landing on my stomach on the hard floor of the hallway in my house. I was thirteen. My pyjamas were too big; I was drowning in my father's large t-shirt, tripping over the too-long legs of his track pants.

"Daddy!" I was crying, scrambling to my feet, falling frantically over and over again in my clothes. My throat was hoarse, my eyes swollen and sore when I reached for the doorknob.

My parent's bedroom door swung wide, just as I had sucked in my shuddering breath, it was stolen from me.

I saw Maria, red curls about her shoulders while she lay in a heap beneath my Father. When she opened her eyes she smiled. "Annett," He said then froze, realization striking his tongue.

Maria frowned, and then gasped, her eyes enlarging when she spotted me. My Father twisted, considered me a moment and his jaw dropped. "Tinkerbelle…" He whispered.

My tongue thrashed behind my lips, but I could form no words. Knees buckling I struggled to make myself move, my lungs burned in my chest, and I squeezed my eyes shut when I raced back down the hall.

I turned quickly on my heels slamming my bedroom door shut; I grew taller, watched my hands mature before my eyes. When I spun on my heels I came face-to-chest with Stalon Piece.

He was unclothed, his flesh illuminated in the dark light of my room. Stalon's skin was warm and damp, he smelt of sweat and wild, and he clutched me to him while I wept.

I felt us falling, and was startled when my back hit the hard, lumpy earth. On my flesh were smooth Goosebumps, they made my hair stand on end.

I was hot. Why was I so hot?

Stalon's teeth were inhuman, canine teeth; I could feel him growling through his chest. When we kissed it hurt, and I scratched at his chest.

My whole body was alive with electricity, and everywhere it seemed was sparking, short circuiting. I groaned, feeling chilly grass sweep over my ticklish back.

When Stalon sat up, he brought me with him, I could not see where he began and I ended.

My hair was messy, grainy when it swayed over my forehead. I couldn't catch my breath; it was as if we were submerged underwater. I felt like a fish, lips opening and closing yet they attained no oxygen.

"Ow!" I rasped, the first words out of my mouth. Stalon drew his face from my shoulder, looking mortified. I felt his nails begin to recede, his enormous palms caressing the gashes he had made.

His eyes were the colour of oil, deep and black. Dark, ominous veins swirled around them, beneath his skin. "I'm sorry!" He panted, concerned.

He looked amazing. Moonlight cast shadows over the curves of his chest, his square shoulders. His body murmured on mine, bare skin against bare skin.

Stalon whimpered, burying his face in my neck, I winced. My pelvis hurt. My thighs hurt.

The pain went away with his touch, as did my sense. I felt numb – in my head, there were no signals coming to and from my brain.

But I flinched. Stalon's hair was like snow, thin glimmering strands under the moonlight. His thick arms pulled me closer; soon, I thought I wouldn't be able to breathe at all.

The tip of his nose moved up my throat, his fingers brushed down my spine. Stalon breathed smoother than me, I could feel his chest against mine. Easy level inhales and exhales.

I found myself pounding into him at random intervals, my tongue swivelling behind clenched teeth.

My tongue ring was suddenly uncomfortable, clicking against my teeth, slipping across the roof of my mouth.

"Harley," Stalon was saying, his words a mumble on my neck. I tried to respond, and I couldn't, holding my breath in my gut and closing my eyes. "Relax."

Slouching over, I pressed my face into the soft bend of his shoulder, pulling my dull nails down his back, breaking his skin and feeling it mend again. Stalon moaned, not how he did when he was changing, not in pain.

My eyes widened when he bit my shoulder. It was not hard but I felt the imprint of his teeth, the sharp, abrupt prick of his jaws.

I fell forward, through Stalon. He was gone.

Now I crouched on my hands and knees, naked in the grass, terrified. When I looked up again I faced Gabriel.

In his arms lay Rachel. Her head lolled to the side, her brown hair over his arm. Her wide auburn eyes retaining this creepy, petrified shell-shock kind of appearance.

Rachel's long neck pale, exposed…bloody. Two teeny dots had swollen up bright and pink over her pulse.

Gabriel dropped her lifeless body before me, his had rising slowly to dab at the crimson smeared across his mouth and chin. My heart thrummed in my chest, hysteric.

I tried to jump to my feet, my hands balled into fists. I couldn't, I couldn't move! I screeched scaly, pale and bright, horribly smooth snakes slithered around me in a giant heap.

Their tongues flicked at my bare skin, their long, ugly bodies winding around my arms and legs.

A fat, brown and black spotted snake hissed at me, somewhere in the pile I heard the rattling of a tail. The other snakes replied with similar sounds hisses, breathy cries.

I trembled, scalding tears streaming down my face as large, yellow Isabel coiled around my shoulders, her slender head moving through my hair, her tongue flicking on my temple.

"Please," My voice shuddered. "Make them stop." I plead, listening to the malevolent cackles from the dry, slinking snakes around me.

Gabriel smirked, leisurely examining his nails. His long black sleeve hung around his elbow, as he brought his left hand up, for a closer look.

A squeal rose in my throat when a big, ugly grey snake rest it's great head on my shoulder, its long body wound around my waist, around Isabel.

Gabriel's dark hair blew back as he stepped over Rachel's dead body, only now did I see the dark, plump bodies wrapped around her, eating her.

He knelt in front of me, his eyes appearing darker if possible. He stretched out a hand and scratched beneath Isabel's chin, smiling when she leaned into his palm.

Gabriel bared a row of fangs when he smiled. It made me shudder violently.

"Well now." He intoned, lifting his right hand to stroke my face, a skinny red, white and, black striped snake woven between his fingers. "That's easy."

He pointed to a door, standing in the distance that I had not seen. It looked exactly like my front door.

"You just have to let me in." He smirked sinisterly, kissing the tiny head of the snake in his hand.

"How?" I choked, staring at the door, unable to move my hands as they were crushed beneath the heavy bodies of his pets.

"Oh, Harley." He said sweetly, leaning forward to press his lips to my forehead, my breath hitched in my throat. His mouth was like ice. "You just have to say it."

I opened my mouth and Gabriel looked hopeful. My tongue held it's place. Stalon will come. A voice said reassuringly from the back of my mind. Don't let him in. Stalon will come. 

I shook my head and cried out at the feel of lengthy teeth sinking into my skin, Isabel's bite was fast and sharp. Gabriel rested his elbow on his knee, plopping his chin in his hand.

"Are you sure?" He sounded bored, playing with a giant ring on his index finger.

The grey snake began to squeeze me, constricting me and opening it's mouth wide to snarl, filmy silver strands dripping from it's mouth.

Rachel gawked at me from inside the giant creature who had consumed her. I watched it slip away, into the bushes, and sobbed.

"Why-why are you doing th-his?" I shouted, Gabriel rolled his eyes dramatically.

His hand shot out, choking me. "Say it! Let me in!" He growled, his black eyes huge and demanding.

"No!" My voice cracked, my eyes aching and blurry. Gabriel's hand shot back suddenly, burning! His skin was black like charcoal, peeling back to reveal the ugly, bloody bone beneath. My necklace began to feel heavier…

"Harley! Wake up!"

I flailed my arms, kicking and shrieking. I opened my eyes to see my Father, towering over me, his expression one of sheer panic. I tore from his grasp, shoving him. "Get away from me!" I screeched.

Jerking on to my side I clawed at my pillows, unable to stop myself from howling.

"Tinkerbelle…" Dad put his hands on my waist and I thrashed in my sheets, throwing his hands away frantically.

"Don't touch me!" I screamed, kicking at the bedding. My Father recoiled, his hands back against his chest, he glanced to my door where Elliott, Bridgette, Jack and Maria looked on in horror.

I pretended not to see them, wrapping my arms around my knees and rocking in my bed.

"Tink."

I shrieked, springing up to push Stalon off of my bed. He didn't budge. I leaned into him, tearing up again. Stalon's arms encircled me, his lips moving over my eyelids.

"Your Dad called me; he sounded really…freaked out." He said this, swaying back in forth the way a Mother would whilst cradling a baby. "He said you'd just been in here all day, screaming. You attacked him this morning?"

Somewhere along the lines Stalon's voice had lost it's worry and become more humorous. I nodded, coiling his navy thermal in my fists, he kissed my hair.

"I dreamt about Gabriel he…he wanted me to let him in." I buried my face in his neck, feeling like a slob. Stalon smelt clean and warm, like evergreens – he'd been running.

Now he pushed me back, holding me at arms length and studying me thoroughly. He looked so much more human right now, comparing him to my dream, he'd been an animal before.

"He wanted you to let him in?" He clarified, releasing me and easily unfurling my fists to stand and close my bedroom door.

When he joined me again, I began to explain what had happened. Stalon's collected expression became furious, his nostrils flaring and, then he was sucking in a deep breath and composing himself again.

"Vampires can't come inside houses." Stalon tilted his head, his lovely eyes on my door, something else had caught his attention. When he gazed back at me he pursed his lips thoughtfully, "They have to be invited in."

"How does he go to school?" My head hurt, I couldn't imagine always having to be invited into places. That would really suck if I wanted to go to the mall.

"Someone holds the door for him, he's allowed entrance." Now Stalon's face became a beautiful painting of anxiety.

"Why does he want in here?" I queried, Stalon was pensive and quiet for a minute, his eyes narrowed.

He sighed, "Vampires only want-"

"He's trying to drink my blood!" I cried, Stalon gauging my reaction before carrying on.

I was frantic, heart racing while I tried to breathe properly without rocking insanely.

"I don't understand why he waits until you're at home, why not between classes or after school?" Stalon crossed his arms, frowning as he deliberated.

Laying down I pulled the covers up to my chin, curling myself up tightly, knees to chest. I didn't want to think of being bitten – like Rachel.

"Of course, I have a better chance of getting to you in school. I'd be able to stop him if he tried to corner you…" Stalon went on in his own world, no longer aware of my presence.

"Why me?" I murmured to myself. Absent-mindedly Stalon pet my hair, which I was sure was a hideous distortion of magenta knots.

"Vampires don't feel Harls, they're only contentment comes in causing the suffering of others. Gabriel only did what he did with Rachel so he could use her as a pawn against you." Stalon shrugged, he seemed to have come to a conclusion.

Now he looked at me, "Has he ever come to you in any other dreams?"

I nodded, "Just once, when I was in the shower." I confessed, Stalon grumbled something that sounded like, "I knew it," under his breath.

"But…it wasn't him." I closed my eyes tightly, "It was you."

"What?" I could picture the astonishment on Stalon's face. I rocked myself slowly, back and forth. "He shifted in front of you?"

"I thought you said they couldn't change once they'd become vampires." I stared at him edgily, Stalon making a face.

"Well, not to their Theriotype or Lycan form." He scratched his chin, "Wolves, crows, the odd time snakes but they're weak and-"

"Snakes?" I interrupted, Stalon eyed me suspiciously.

"I have this dream – all the time! – a great big talking, yellow snake crushes me and eats me-" Stalon cringed "-but-but you were always there, except for that one time, you always came and saved me."

Now he looked haughty and proud, Stalon's shoulders relaxing and his chin lifting. "He must have taken my form because that was familiar for you; you would have been more willing to let me in. I'm surprised it wasn't Elliott or your Dad or something."

I bit my lip, playing with my tongue ring bar, unravelling myself under the sheets. My back cracking as I stretched out. "In my dream…last night…you were in it."

Stalon looked intrigued, smirking down at me. "You just can't get enough of me can you?"

I tried to laugh, but all that came was an uncertain titter. "We were in the forest somewhere." I could feel my face getting hot; Stalon raised a brow at me.

"We – we were – you were..." It took three long minutes for me to get my tongue to hold still, my heart to return to a natural pace. "You were making love to me."

Stalon kind of revelled in the idea a moment, smiling softly. Then, like the crack of a whip he sucked in all emotion and considered me seriously, sombrely.

"Harley you-" He started. I didn't want to hear it.

"Yeah. Yeah. I-I know, we can't…it was just a dream, it's fine." I tried hard to not sound disappointed, to keep the anger I felt building in my stomach from pouring into my words.

"Are you mad at me?" He was speaking to his hands, his face hidden by them.

Very much.

"No, but it wasn't so bad. I mean you didn't, like, tear me apart or anything." I shrugged, gaping up at the ceiling when I talked. "You kind of bit my arm." I giggled near the end, feeling Stalon's eyes burning me.

I felt his hands on me, pulling me up to sit beside him. My heart leaped into overdrive when he pulled at the buttons of my sweatshirt. Stalon uncovered my shoulder, pondered the pale, soft skin there an instant then leaned down and bit me.

I shuddered at first, his breath was warm and damp, I felt the abrupt points of jagged canine teeth. Reaching out I squeezed his arm, Stalon grunted and pulled away from me.

We both stared at the imprint of his teeth; it was puckering and white then red around the edges.

My skin burned with the niggling pinch of pain for a while until it filled back out, and all that was left was a thin, shinny film of saliva.

"Did you know we never had this problem before?" I said, cocking my head to the side, enjoying the cool air of my room on my wet skin.

"What problem?" Stalon was quiet, as usual but tense, frighteningly so. When I risked a peek at him he wasn't even looking at me, just staring at the wall through a shaggy mess of his colourless hair.

"This…" I waved my hands about in the air between us, "This-this – I don't know – sexual thing."

He looked at me gravely. "Yes. Yes I did." He smiled ruefully, "Can I be a normal, testosterone-driven, seventeen-year-old boy for a second?"

Perplexed, I nodded, and Stalon twisted himself like a spring, taking hold of my shoulders. "I don't think there hasn't been a second for me – especially in spring – where I haven't wanted to pin you down and...ugh."

"Uh," I murmured, drawing a massive blank in my head. What does one say to her boyfriend, her non-human boyfriend mind you, after he says that? I racked my brain for possible responses that would not embarrass me further.

"That's different." Is what I said. Stalon's forehead creased, his hands falling back into his lap. "Good…different."

He snorted, "No it isn't. That's disgusting." Stalon closed his eyes and began to rub them roughly with his fingertips. "That-that's not even normal. I'm so, so very sorry Harley. I just…I just wanted you to know…"

A small laugh bubbled on the edge of my lips. "Spring?" I shook my head, "You're like a puppy."

Stalon's lips twitched faintly, "That is not funny. That's horribly painful, what it is."

"What's it like?" My tone was hushed, a mumble of fantasy. Stalon's eyes lost their harsh intensity, perplexed and intrigued. "When you change," I went on, "Tell me what it's like."

He shrugged, "I…don't know. It's just, there's such freedom, it's like being trapped in darkness for years and years and, finally walking out into daylight-"

"Domesticating a wild animal," I smiled contritely, quoting him. Stalon nodded, closing his eyes and exhaling heavily.

"It's as if this whole human life is a dream, everything about it is all just a front, and when I shift I'm in reality – even when I can't control myself." Stalon pursed his lips. "I love to hate it."

I blinked, staring at the two slender lumps beneath my duvet, that were my wiggling feet, warm and relaxed. "Change for me." I said this in a diverted monotone, it made Stalon jump.

"Are you crazy?" His hand clapped over my forehead, feeling for a fever. I looked at him plainly, considered his concerned features a moment, relishing them the way one would savour ice cream on a hot day.

"Do it." I stated, inexpressive, watching him grow hysteric.

"Inside? Harley what if-"

"Please," There was a need to my voice that we both picked up on, it somewhat startled me to hear, it was not my voice.

Stalon became very still, removing his palm from where it lay on my face, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath. His brow creased, his eyebrows knitting together as he clenched his teeth.

I could have sworn my heart has stopped beating for a good thirty seconds – was that normal? It felt wrong to breathe in this instant, like if I did I would be destroying this focus that he had.

For someone that must have been a total nightmare growing up, he looked pretty serene, normal everyday Stalon. That was, of course, until he opened his eyes.

They weren't human, they weren't wolf. If there was anything that stayed the same when Stalon changed it was his eyes. Sapphire and caramel brown, it never changed.

So what then…what was this? Post-Therian? Was that even a word?

It was an abnormal mixture of night and day. The sun seated beside the moon, midnight stars ablaze in a clear blue sky. Dawn of the moon.

Stalon's pupils were…bigger, rounder, nearly swallowing his irises whole. All that remained was a very thin, milky shade of blue and a smoky, fading brown.

He bared a row of glimmering jaws, neither human nor canine. At first I snatched back, hurting my neck in the process.

The In Between, that's what this was, an odd cross of animal and person. In Between.

Stalon snorted, "This wasn't in your dream was it?" He stretched out his fingers, which crackled uncomfortably, I could see the bones beneath his skin shifting, moving to accommodate paws.

I shook my head, blinking hard and tearing at my tongue for words. "N-no." I licked my lips, crossing my arms over my chest, "Is it – are you – is it hard to…to stay like that?"

Stalon shrugged shoulders that flexed and twisted awkwardly under his shirt. "Now? Yes. Before? I spent days like this, "teetering," my Dad would call it, when I'm two things at once." He sighed, "Contherianthropy."

"I…" My voice was a teeny squeak scraping along the back of my throat. Stalon blinked once, twice then shook his head.

"This isn't going to work is it?" He sounded defeated, miserable. I felt confusion contort my face, my teeth sinking down into my bottom lip when I reached out to put my hand on his shoulder.

"What are you talking about?" I pretended not to notice the muscle throbbing and convulsing, my fingers twitched.

Stalon closed his eyes, running his big hand over his face fiercely. His hair, strewn chaotically about his face looked fine and bright, bizarre against Stalon's suddenly dour expression.

It was quiet for a moment, not a restful, easy quiet but a smothering, bitter stillness that made my blood rush in my ears.

"This. Me and you." He spoke smoothly, but the break, the restlessness in his eyes made my mouth get dry. "I lied to you about all this, and it killed me – it killed me. But…I'm afraid of putting all this on you-"

"Just trust me!" I hadn't meant to sound so frantic, but the anxiety building in my stomach made my heart race, my skin crawl. "Why are you mad at me I didn't even-"

Now it was Stalon's turn to interrupt. "Please, Tink, I'm not mad it's just that I don't want to frighten you. It was easier when you thought I was just lying and goofing around. This is too much, too fast – and I know you must be freaked out."

I scoffed, how could he say things like that? "I'm not freaked out, okay, sometimes yes but, I'm not anymore." I clutched his shirt between my fingers, like he was going to combust into a bright purple cloud right before my eyes. Poof! and he's gone.

"Why are you doing this?" Now I was angry, "Have I done something? Was it the dream?"

Stalon waved his hands at me, pulling my fingers from his shirt and holding me back when I tried to climb out of my bed. I slapped at his arms, kicking the covers down and staggering to spaghetti legs.

"Harley stop." Stalon's back was pressed to the door, "Back off." He put his hand up, his skin stretching and tearing on his palm.

I ground my teeth together, my knees quaking uncontrollably beneath me. I felt as if I was sinking into my dream again, running on the beach towards Mom when my legs couldn't carry me.

Stumbling I grabbed his forearm, "Look at me." I pinched his jaw in my hand, my fingertips chafing on coarse stubble. "Hey!"

Stalon was snarling, his hand clasping my wrist to yank my hand from his face. "We don't do so good apart, okay, we don't. And I need you to stay here with me please."

He bit my fingers and I winced, jerking my hand back to gape at the bloodied mess of my left hand. Coiling my arms around his torso I made myself a rock, I focused on being unmoveable, being as strong as an ox.

Stalon banged the back of his head on my door, his hands hysterically trying to decide whether to shove me away or pull me in. "You're sixteen; you don't know what you need." His voice was dry and breathy.

"God, thanks Father." I hissed, rolling my eyes. "Don-don't do this, I'm losing everyone – please don't be one of them."

Stalon's thumb moved over my cheek. "No," He spoke sharply, astutely. "No, no. This isn't normal. I'm not normal, expecting you to accept me was-"

"Shut up!" I talked through my teeth, glaring at him vehemently. When he opened his mouth again I jabbed a finger at him, daring Stalon to breathe one syllable.

There was another pound, Stalon closing his eyes when he banged his head a third time.

Working around his barricade of tense arms and locked fingers, I manoeuvred myself closer without tainting his clothes with my dribbling hand.

Stalon was damp, his face shining with perspiration, his breaths shallow and low. When I put my hand on his neck his skin was cold and doused in fine, uneven Goosebumps.

I pulled at the fabric of his shirt, my lips twitching when it slapped back against his skin. Fumbling my fingers around the edge, I rolled it up, listening to the faint slurping noises of wet material on skin.

Pushing my tongue ring up an out of my mouth, I slid the bar along the length of my upper lip. Lifelessly, he lifted his arms and I tussled against the resistant sleeves of his thermal. Stalon's shirt made an awful, "slop!" when it struck the floor.

"Why are you so cold?" I wondered aloud, my palms slipping over his scar, the damp, lumpy texture tickling my hands.

Stalon's hands fit over mine, pressing them harder into his skin. "I'm not sure, it just happens." He exhaled loudly, "It's part of the change-" Stalon smiled sardonically "-it used to make me sick for weeks, I'd be on fire and shivering."

I curled my fingers around the worn leather of Stalon's belt, undoing the unfamiliar loops and pressing all my weight down on his jeans.

Hooking my arms under Stalon's I drew him from the door, slowly trying to remember where my bed was in this room. It wasn't until we were tripping on the muddled pile of bed sheets, half lying on the floor, did we reach it.

My head bounced on the stack of pillows I'd scattered in my sleep, Stalon's fingers folding over the thick corner of my duvet, drawing it up to us.

There was no knock at my door, but I heard it swing wide, then there was a short gasp. Bridgette giggled, and I met Stalon's glowing eyes beneath the sheets – how cool would it be to see in the dark!

"Harley?" Bridgette sang, I thought if she wasn't so slippery, I'd jump out and try to catch her, but Bridgette was fast. I ignored her, kissing Stalon's chin.

"What're you doing?" Her voice was getting closer, and I could see by the jagged clenching of Stalon's teeth he was irritated enough as is.

"What do you want Bridgette?" I groaned. She became very quiet, something was wrong. It is humanly impossible for Bridgette to shut up. A sign of the Apocalypse maybe?

"Well…I just wanted to know if you were okay, but you seem to be pretty fiiine." She snickered, "Daddy's going to be real mad if he comes up here."

Stalon snorted and I gnashed my teeth together, the horrid memory of my dream coming back to me. "I hope he comes up here." I snapped, "Now go away, I'll talk to you later."

"Ooookay." She intoned and was off, my door slammed and Bridgette's noisy feet went parading down the hall and back downstairs.

Stalon smirked, "What do you think he would do to me?" His fingers slithered skilfully over the ticklish patch of my back, holding my breath I struggled to hold myself over.

"Neuter you," I laughed at Stalon's petrified expression. "He'd probably go cry in a corner."

"Don't joke about that – that's terrible."

Dad had forgotten to wake me up, that never happened. I stumbled down the stairs; my hair still wet from the shower clung to my face. Jack was barking at me, as if to scold me for sleeping in.

The kitchen stunk of burnt toast and eggs; I could hear the simmer of bacon over Bridgette and Elliott's loud voices.

When I came in, I found Maria, her face wrapped in utter shock, her mouth hanging agape as she waved her hands around uselessly at my siblings.

Elliott was holding something that looked like a bracelet, Bridgette screaming while she chased him around the kitchen table.

Jack whistled through his nose, blue eyes travelling anxiously from the twins to where my Father worked behind Maria. He seemed completely oblivious to what was going on, knocking back small, watered down glasses of scotch as if none of us were even here.

I stepped in, sticking my foot out when Elliot came around the table, he tripped over my ankle and Bridgette's bracelet went flying. My brother squealed, bursting into tears when he landed on the floor.

I picked up the bracelet which happened to belong to me, a gift from Rachel on my fourteenth birthday. I scowled at Bridgette flicking it back at her. "If you lose it," I threatened, "I'll cut your fingers off."

Maria made a face at me, and I pushed by her, taking the small glass from my Father's hands and dumping it down the sink. "Since when do you drink?"

He shrugged in response, blinking long and hard before sighing. "Since right now." I grabbed the slender neck of the scotch bottle and reached over him, making sure he saw me pouring it all down the drain.

"Why didn't you wake me?" I growled, Dad giving another shrug. I groaned, turning on the balls of my heels and ignoring the mess that was Elliott on the floor, Maria crouched down to comfort him.

I pulled the toast from the toaster and pushing cluttered pieces of metal and plastic, (knickknacks yet to be created by my Father) aside to make room.

Slapping strips of bacon and mushy piles of eggs on to our old plates, I dished out breakfast. Dad vanished, Jack trailing behind him, and I wondered if he even planned on going to work today.

Clutching my fork I gazed around the table, Maria was poking at her eggs, while Elliot glowered at his plate from under his thick bangs. Bridgette was going to great lengths to keep from meeting my gaze, and I had to wonder if she had gone and ratted on me about what happened this weekend.

Nothing had happened. No, really, nothing. Well, okay, that wasn't entirely true, stuff had gone on but we hadn't gone, "all the way" as Michael would say.

But I could see Bridgette with her big mouth and even bigger imagination stretching that.

Not that Dad could get me in trouble; I mean his slate wasn't exactly clear either. I flinched, my dream coming back to me.

I'd been having it repeatedly, only Gabriel wasn't such a dominant part of it. Instead it was just repeating me and Mom on the beach and, Dad and Maria, over and over and over again, like some broken record.

The table was quiet, save for the scraping of plates and the crackle of knives on bread. It was almost uncomfortable, and I was more than happy to be heading off to school.

Dad wasn't driving us, and we sat in the awkward silence of the van while Maria drove. It got worse when we were alone, she didn't even look at me, as if I would make her drop dead with a simple glance.

I pondered that idea, wishing she would gaze at me so I could see if she would kick the bucket or not.

Wordlessly I climbed out of the van, marching through the school parking lot and up the cement stairs. Gabriel was waiting for me inside and I shivered under his eyes.

"Harley," He was cheerful, smiling when he give me a curt wave. I clenched my teeth walking straight by him and down the hall, hoping to lose him in the mosh-pit of the halls.

I was wrong. Instead he appeared in front of me. Now that, was definitely not human speed.

"If I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to avoid me." Gabriel pouted theatrically, sweeping closer to me.

"I know what you are." I hissed, taking a step back. I had hoped that he would panic and flee, or turn into a bat and fly off. Instead Gabriel smirked wickedly, rolling his elegant shoulders.

"Well that's no fun," He sighed. "Kind of ruins my plans actually."

I snorted, "What plans?" I watched Gabriel's body movement, slipping myself back towards a familiar group of cheerleaders gossiping about someone.

"Nice try." Gabriel's voice was smooth, enticing. "It's not that simple, darling, now perhaps you could-"

He didn't get a chance to finish, cut off by a high-pitched squeak; Rachel came flying down the hall wrapping herself around his arm. There was annoyance on Gabriel's face, his hands balling up angrily when he looked down at her.

Rachel wasn't concerned with his expression, glaring blackly at me from where she stood beside him. Her lips twisted haughtily, "Hey there Mary. Did you take my advice?"

For an instant I was reminded of the silvery packet still tucked inside my jeans, somewhere on the floor of my bedroom.

I wanted to slap her. "No, we've decided to wait." Rachel sneered at me, chuckling to herself as she snuggled into Gabriel's black sweater.

"You're pathetic Harls, ya know, gatta lose it some time." Rachel flipped her brown locks over her shoulder, while I dug my nails into my palms.

Then I saw Rachel, my Rachel, limp over Gabriel's arms with her bloodied throat and the wind was knocked out of me. Staggering forward I reached out and snatched Rachel's arm, ripping her from him.

Gabriel looked amused, holding his chin reflectively as if he'd read my thoughts.

"If you so much as look at her again I'll…I'll-" He interrupted me.

"You'll what? Sick your mutt on me?" Gabriel cocked a brown and I whirled back, struggling to keep my grip on Rachel.

I forced her into the bathroom a hall down; she looked just about ready to knock me out. I waited until the few girls that were in doing their makeup left before I began.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said last week, but please Rach I'm just trying to look out for you-"

"Oh save it Harley," She snapped, cutting me off. "Looking out for me, ha! Do you think I'm an idiot?"

For sleeping with a vampire? Pfft! Nah, of course not, I mean, he just wants to drink your blood – no biggy.

"Rachel, I'm serious he's – you're – he's not good for you." My mind was going a mile a minute, but my lips could not keep up, and Rachel just gawked at me as if I was speaking a different language. "Look – just…don't be mad at me, I'm just trying to help."

"Well don't!" Rachel's voice bounced along the walls, resounding in the small bathroom. "I don't want your help okay, so just-just…leave alone!"

She shoved me into the wall, my backpack smacking loudly on the linoleum while she stormed out. The bathroom door swung, blowing gruff breaths of wind at me.

I was late for class, plopping into science, back row, silent. I dropped my head on my desk, grateful for the cool wooden top.

Ms. Stewart announced that we would be having a substitute on Tuesday because she had a recital, and that third and fourth period would cancelled so we could see the rugby boys in another of their tournament.

I closed my eyes and let myself drift to the whispering of my classmates, the sound of thumbs on cell phones and, Ms. Stewart's icy voice describing our ecosystem today and global warming.

My head was filled with dreams of hideous yellow snakes and the brindle wolves that crushed them beneath their paws.

Gabriel was standing beside Stalon, vigorously discussing something. Stalon wore all black making his white hair stand out like a sore thumb.

They turned to me suddenly, Stalon smiling when he walked toward me, wrapping his arms around me tightly. He was humming.

Bah bah black sheep have you any wool…

I looked up at him, confused, but then he pushed me aside pacing away into the darkness of my thought. I called his name over and over again, until I was coughing from lack of breath.

A hand appeared on my shoulder and I whipped around kicking Gabriel in the shin. Completely unfazed he grinned widely, a dark, dark thin tongue flicking out from between his lips. A snake's tongue.

I pushed him away, trying to run, but I took no steps – what was this? A treadmill?

No, not a treadmill. A chess board. I was surrounded by giant pawns, both black and white; great knights the shape of giant horse heads, and tall rooks that cast shadows on me, massive towers.

I stood on a white square, the milky colour matching the sequined dress and long gloves I wore. I stopped running so abruptly a great diamond circlet fell off my head, clanging on the square beside me.

I reached down in time to hear laughter, picking up my circlet and placing it on my head, I glanced over my shoulder to see a woman.

She was standing beside Gabriel, at the far end of the board, a tiara on her head. Her arm was linked through his, but it was not Rachel.

She had short, chin length strawberry blonde, bone straight hair. Her lips were plump and the colour of dried blood, suiting her almost-black brown eyes.

She wore a fancy, elegant black dress which made mine look like something a kindergartener would ware on picture day. She wore lovely black lace gloves that climbed up to her elbows like mine did.

Gabriel wore a crown; it was fantastic and gold, covered in onyx stones. He wore a tuxedo that looked far too old to be from this time. It looked similar to something I'd seen in a text book painting once.

On his left stood two tall ebony bishops, resembling the round clergy hats. Gabriel lifted his chin, but his eyes were not on me.

My eyes travelled across the vast chequered board to where there were thick curls of grey fog and, looming trees.

Green-white eyes glimmered in the shadow, and Stalon emerged from the abyss, paws and all. His fur looked nearly black in the darkness; his jaws were bright, carrying something.

He trotted to the edge, dropping a large, golden crown to the board, his tongue flicking, ghostly vapours appearing in the air about him. Stalon's lovely eyes were surrounded faintly by snow white hairs, which swayed when he winked at me.

Another, smaller, thinner wolf padded up beside him. It's green eyes were memorable, and he nudged Stalon's great shoulder with his muzzle. Then came the chestnut wolf I had also seen in the forest, her head was low when she came to stand on Stalon's right.

Again I tried to run to them, unable to move from my place on the board.

An awful scraping noise filling the air, and I turned to see the pieces move. White converged with black, knocking others down and causing the ground to tremble viciously.

Something cold grazed my hand, the grey wolf from Stalon's pack standing across from me, he strained to reach where I was. I smiled at his efforts, putting my hand out to touch his coarse ruff.

Gradually, painfully, the wolves were taken from the game. I was slowly trying to completely understand the game of chess. Mom used to play with me; she let me move all my pieces wherever I wanted to. She always let me win.

Stalon did not look as disgruntled as I knew I did, his eyes were masking grief with tranquility. He padded down the board, that, I knew wasn't supposed to happen.

The woman beside Gabriel moved to stand in front of him. I was starting to understand something – recall something.

"Remember Tinkerbelle, the queen is given up for her king, okay?" It was Mom's voice in my head, and that was the reason I stopped playing chess.

The queen was my favourite; I refused to sacrifice her for the stupid king.

Stalon wove through a series of black and white pieces, his hulking body somehow managing to be graceful. He stopped at the square in front of my own, not regarding me when I questioned him.

"Do you even know how to play this game?" I knew this was wrong, Mom never moved her king around like this.

"Miss Tinker."

I dug my hands deep into Stalon's fur, knotting my fingers in the silky soft hairs beneath his ruff. My gloves wrinkled, fine brindle hairs shedding on to them.

"Miss Tinker."

"Checkmate." Gabriel's voice was like a phantom, echoing in my ear. Stalon vanished, just like that, poof!

Checkmate.

Gabriel snorted, the woman narrowing her eyes at me.

"Miss Tinker!"

I snapped up, scrubbing my face, the whole class began to shudder with muffled laughter. Ms. Stewart did not look impressed; I felt my face getting hot.

"It would be nice if you stayed awake in my lessons." Ms. Stewart said bitterly, her nose creasing in anger when she whirled on her heels to click-clack back to the blackboard.

Gazing across the room I saw Rachel who was staring sadistically back at me. Probably praying my head would spontaneously combust.

"Checkmate." I whispered, resting my face in my palms.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Cheyenne Piece was a beautiful woman, with her warm russet skin, gorgeous vivacious eyes and huge, inviting smile. Her laugh was smooth and rolling, but quiet and gentle – just like Stalon's.

We sat in the gigantic living room, on one of the elaborate, creamy coloured couches, poking away at photo albums.

It was hard to believe what I had heard of Stalon's past after seeing all of the hilarious pictures of him in diapers and as a gawky thirteen-year-old. He reminded me of a puppy that still had to grow into his skin.

Stalon was upstairs showering, having no idea we were flicking through his photos. I didn't care if he was going to be upset, since Dad had nearly every wall covered in terrible, humiliating pictures of Elliot, Bridgette and I, he had already seen me growing up.

Mrs. Piece's eyes began to well up every once in a while, and I would pretend not to notice. She would burst out laughing, and it was so infectious I couldn't help but join in.

"See, it's not all bad." She said, pointing to a rectangular photo tucked beneath the smooth plastic. It's corners were an aged yellow, a fine wrinkle of a crease running down the center. The writing along the bottom was furious and messy, stating: **Nine months..** It looked as if someone had tried to hide it.

In it, Cheyenne was pregnant – very, very pregnant. Her right hand was on her belly, and she looked extremely tired, like she'd just been woken up from hibernation.

She smiled sheepishly, her green-blue eyes lazy and warm. In her free hand was a book, which held bright colours and pretty pictures. It was a children's book, I knew right off the bat, but it wasn't the Frog Prince, or Cinderella.

This book was about wolves.

"Oh my gosh!" She howled, flipping another page and pressing her fingernail into the clear plastic over the photographs. I snorted, swallowing my laughter and taking in her nostalgic expression.

But my smile quickly faded when I realized where exactly the picture had been taken.

Stalon was sitting on the edge of a massive square bathtub, blue boxers draping from his lanky legs. His arms were resting on his knees while he hunched slightly over himself.

His hair was yet to be bleached, deep brindle locks hung around his earlobes, the tips were a dark black around his face where he'd been sweating.

The scar on his chest looked almost…newer, fresher even? It wasn't the faded, lumpy pink I was used to. Instead it was a red, ugly strip of horrid black stitches and crumpled, tight skin.

Purple-black thumbprint bruises surrounded his eyes, making him look exhausted and weak – another thing I wasn't used to. Stalon's smile was forced, his pearly teeth pointed and glistening.

I acted as if I didn't see the smeared crimson handprints on the side of the beige ceramic tub. The tufts of brindle fur scattered about the pale white tiles, the cracks in the wall, the torn white and black wallpaper.

My stomach jostled around inside me when I noticed the blue veins showing up in his arms, moving in bestial curves beneath his skin.

"He was fourteen when I took this." She murmured, Cheyenne's voice but a peep in my ear. I turned the page, relieved to find a teenier, happier Stalon.

He couldn't have been more than five-years-old, wearing nothing but red shorts that were still too big for him. He looked startled, as if he hadn't expected to have his photo taken.

Still, he grinned, blue and brown eyes bright and excited. His teeth were teeny, undeveloped levelled squares, sinking into his bottom lip and giving him an adorably crooked smile.

"He was _so_ cute!" I whispered, Mrs. Piece smiled, tucking stray hairs back behind her ears.

Cheyenne pointed to another picture, of her holding a baby, his eyes closed and his hands curling in her dark hair. Mrs. Piece wiped at her eyes, sucking in a shuddering breath.

She looked tired in the photo, her eyes half lidded and her face doused in shimmering beads of sweat.

"You know." She said quietly, resting her chin in her palm and softly running her index finger over the baby's face. "Stalon's probably told you this already, but, wolves are born completely deaf and blind. So I wasn't really surprised when the doctors told me Stalon was would never see or hear – possibly never speak.

"We stayed over night for a few days – when I brought him home Beck wouldn't even touch him. Then on the fifteenth day when I was sleeping something just started screaming." Her eyes widened with the memory. "I just remember running down the hall, terrified that something had happened, and when I walked in he started laughing."

I tried to picture that, laughing quietly to myself and nodding for Mrs. Piece to continue.

"I looked over the edge of the cradle and he just stared right back at me, like he hadn't just given me a heart attack-" she laughed loudly "-He got so old so fast, one minute Stalon's barely able to roll over, three weeks later he's following me around the house."

I was listening diligently but, I couldn't help but visualize Jack instead of Stalon. It sounded like Cheyenne was talking about her new puppy, not her human, seventeen-year-old son.

"After Stalon…what I let him go through…" Cheyenne dropped her head into her hands, taking a few deep breaths before she could go on. "I couldn't let that happen again – I don't think I could handle it again. And with Stalon how unstable as he is now, I'm afraid of what he would do to Beck if we had another-"

"_Mom!_"

Both Cheyenne and I jumped, Stalon standing in the doorway to the living room, glimmering beads of water dripping from his hair. His expression was sharp, furious Stalon's jaw muscles surging, his eyes tapered and angry.

He spoke through his teeth, making the words come out in a frightening snarl.

Cheyenne looked at me bashfully, rising from her place beside me to gather up the five albums and slipping from the couch. She bumped shoulders with Stalon, sending dozens of filmy, shiny rectangular photographs across the hardwood.

Stalon stiffened and Cheyenne squealed, about to bend down and collect the pictures when Stalon grabbed her arm.

She looked up at him and for an instant I could have sworn what I saw was fear on her face. Only for a second, and then it vanished.

Cheyenne assessed me over her shoulder, then shuffled out of the room, leaving the pictures, an aggravated Stalon and, me alone.

Stalon kneeled, not even giving me a second glance. I slunk forward off of the couch and tiptoed across the room to join him.

When I reached down to pick up one of the pictures I paused. They were dated on the back in messy, nearly illegible black ink and Stalon was frantically trying to gather them all together.

Week one, month one, day three, month five, year two, day six and so on. I yanked one out from between his trembling fingers, Stalon's hands jerking up to snatch at me.

"Harley don't." His petrified expression made my heart race, and I hurried to flip the picture over and see. His fingers clamped down hard on my thigh, bringing me to wince and scratch at the back of his hands.

"You promised!" I hissed, Stalon's eyes darkening, his fingers gradually releasing me to rest tensely on my leg.

I didn't know what the picture was of, all I could see was a distortion of limbs and hair.

It reminded me of the images on the front of the newspapers – there hadn't been any for a month – but Thor's mangled, bloody body was still fresh in my mind as if I'd seen it yesterday.

Then I began to see a face, hands, toes. I recognized the eyes first, the pain, the horror in them, beautiful sapphire blue and caramel brown.

Stalon's fingers were twisted, broken in the most horrible ways. His eyes were half open, tears streaming down his chubby, round face. His ribs were pushing against his skin as if something was trying to burst out from beneath them.

Deep, angry looking lacerations covered his frail body, bloody smudges running down his chin. His hands were not yet paws, but making a great attempt to become them, and his teeny, undeveloped teeth were sharp and vicious.

The silky photo fell from my fingers, my hands reaching out to grip Stalon's shirt and yank him to me. My chest hurt with sharp, sudden intakes of breath, a burning hand clinging to my lungs.

My eyes were stinging, I heard the grating sobs before I felt the heat of surging tears. I buried my face in his shoulder, unable to make myself stop – I couldn't get the damned image from my head!

"Oh God, oh God, oh God!" The same words kept coming, but I couldn't get them to stop, my tongue taking on a mind of it's own, my lips blurting out nonsense.

"I didn't want you to see." Stalon's arms came around me, pulling me through the mass of pictures, the whisper of scratched film coming between us.

I choked on my own breath. "Wh-wh-why would he do that to you?" Stalon drew me into his lap, his fingers looping in my hair.

His thumbs swept over my cheeks. "It's okay Tink, I'm okay. Just breathe."

Opening my mouth I went to protest when a sound cut me off, a door? Yes.

Pushing myself out of Stalon's grasp I closed my fingers around the sharp edges of another picture, racing out into the front hall. Stalon was faster than me, coming up quickly on my heels to stop me but I wasn't there.

I remembered Dylan Twine, I remembered how good it felt to hit him. I remembered yelling at Maria, I remembered when all the pain went away when she burst out in tears.

Close fist. Thumb out. Deep breath. Arm back. Aim. Blow out. Release.

When I punched Beck there wasn't that same squishy padding as there was with Dylan. It actually hurt.

It was like running headlong into a brick wall. In the instant that we made eye contact, all the possible consequences came to mind. Thor's ravaged body. Stalon's scar.

But then, I didn't care.

Beck's head was tilted back a fraction, my hand throbbing, still clutched in a tiny ball smashing into his chin. With a sigh he moved, so slightly I thought it was no more than a trick of the eye.

All too quickly my stomach erupted in an explosion of agony. So sudden that it knocked me backwards, Stalon's arms hooked under mine, and then I saw it. The rip in my t-shirt.

The ugly gash there that was so deep it did not bleed. I felt it though, like a burn, abrupt and searing. This was not a burn and the pain did not recede.

My stomach was pale around the wound, in the wound. There was no colour to it, no dark crimson – I almost wished there was.

My purple t-shirt reflected what I felt. The flimsy fabric was torn evenly, slashed by a practiced hand. It was frayed and flapping around the edges, curled over itself in a way I found nearly disturbing.

The floor was cold on my back. I saw Stalon, felt his hands shaking when they pushed my shirt up. I heard Cheyenne shriek, heard her hysteric footstep sprinting towards us, heard Stalon growling through his teeth.

But I saw Beck. He was emotionless, his face vacant, his eyes amused in the most morbid of ways. Beck's lips twitched faintly as he lowered his unscathed chin.

He ignored Cheyenne's cursing, flouted Stalon's threats, and waltzed around me, toward the kitchen.

"Harley?" Cheyenne's fingers were cold on my face, was I crying again? I stared at the gash in my stomach, at the clean, effortlessness of the entire thing. "Are you alright?"

I nodded despite myself when I saw Stalon's panicked expression, he looked frozen. Clenching my teeth, I lifted my hand to touch it but he snatched my wrist before I got the chance.

"Don't. You'll only make it worse." I surprised at the calm in his voice, the emptiness. Stalon manoeuvred his arms under me, I winced at the ripping fist that thrust through my gut.

"I'll get the-" Cheyenne jumped to her feet, ready to launch off when she was silenced by Stalon's glare.

"You've done enough." It was a simple sentence. Structured easily and spoken fluently, although it looked as if they had slapped Mrs. Piece right across her beautiful face.

She recoiled into herself, wordlessly dropping her eyes to the floor while Stalon brought me upstairs. He pushed the door open with his knee, making as little movement as possible.

A screech slapped the roof of my mouth when he set me on the cold tiles. I glowered at him, Stalon looking as apologetic as he could manage in a state of shock.

Closing the door, he moved toward the cabinets, pulling open the bottom cupboard and retrieving a great black bag. When he dropped it beside me it landed with a heavy _thwack _on the tiles.

Eyes narrowed I studied him carefully, eyeing the items he brought from the depths of the bag. Stalon ran a cold antiseptic swab over the gash, when he got out needles and thread I interjected, stopping his hand.

"No, I don't want stitches. I'm fine." My voice betrayed me, tumbling into the torture that was the elegant laceration in my stomach.

Stalon spoke impassively, "How do you expect it to heal then, Harley?" His tone was pointed near the end, a stab.

I grimaced, his hands disregarding mine, coming to my skin with a lengthy, curved needle. Squirming I slapped at him again. "Like yours do."

"Don't be silly." He intoned, attempting to not look as frightened as his eyes told me he was. "I promise I won't hurt you."

The tip was cold and sharp. I tried to remember how much it hurt when I got my tongue pierced, but I hadn't been quite coherent at the time.

The needle itself didn't hurt, no, it was the thread. The quick brittle fibres passed through my skin, burning the tender flesh and yanking it closer and closer.

"_Stop it,"_ I would say, but Stalon wouldn't look at me, his face hidden by the straggly dried strands of his white hair. When I started crying he finally stopped, pausing to brush the hair out of my face.

"Just one more, Tink." Stalon's voice shuddered, his eyes frantic and terrified – a deer caught in headlights. I shook my head and he reached up to squeeze my shoulder. "Please, this is the last one."

I talked through my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut and clutching the hem of my t-shirt.

The point of the needle I no longer felt, my skin was raw, unfeeling. Then came the tug of thread and I squealed, Stalon moved faster, wrenching it all the way through and tying it off.

Lying back down on the tiles I felt the uncomfortable pinch in my skin, the sore stretching that it was forced to do. Stalon shoved the bag away, crawling over me, his expression one of sheer misery.

"I'm so sorry Harley!" Stalon kissed my face. "I'll never, never hurt you again." I would have laughed, but when I tried it hurt so badly I thought I'd never even smile again.

Running my hand through his chaotic hair, "I had to get clawed for you to finally say that?" Then I frowned. "You didn't save me that time."

Stalon turned his head away before I could see his expression. "I'm…I hesitated." He laughed bitterly, "It's a human reaction, you should be happy."

I scowled angrily at his throat, unable to see the rest of his face. The thread in my flesh was irritating, it tugged in ways I didn't think my skin was supposed to. It made me feel like there was an intruder inside me.

"Could've come at a better time." I muttered, pulling him back to face me. Stalon was blank, his eyes guarded and elusive. "I'm sorry."

Stalon's eyes brightened, "No, thanks Harley. You weren't successful in what you were aiming for, but the fact you tried is good enough."

I snorted, "I should try to clobber your Dad more often then?" Stalon grinned ruefully down at me.

Stalon pressed his forehead to mine, closing his eyes. I focused on inhaling and exhaling, the stretching and tightening of my stitches. How was I going to explain them to Dad?

"You're very important to me, I'll handle my Father later. I'll take you home now." And just like that, it was all over. The scratch, the stinging antiseptics, the stitches.

Could anything out of the ordinary scare me anymore? Or had I already reached the full extent of weird in my life?

I slept the whole way home, awaking to Bridgette's nagging voice – a huge shift from Stalon's anxious bass.

She was pulling at my sweater – hold the phone, sweater? Sitting up I cringed, flopping back down into my mattress and cursing Beck to the fiery depths of hell.

"Harley Dad wants to see you, he says it's really, really important." Bridgette leaned in, she smelt of vanilla ice-cream and my perfume. "He's mad too."

Snapping my arm out I caught her collar just before she could scoot off. "_What did you do?_" I hissed, watching her face blank, her bottom lip judder and her eyes narrow.

"I didn't mean to!" She howled, "It just slipped out!"

Kicking my sheets back I gradually navigated myself off the side of my bed to face my cowering sister. "Get the hell out of my room."

And so she went, crying the whole way. When I hit the stairs Bridgette slammed her door, hard enough the make the pictures on the hallway walls tremor.

I wondered what I had told Bridgette over the pass few weeks that could lead to my doom. However, when I entered the kitchen I realized it wasn't something I'd said.

Dad rubbed his face, pausing mid sentence with Maria to glare at me over the rim of his glasses. I knew that look, that was the look that made me bawl my eyes out when I was little.

My gut knotted violently, my hand coming over my mouth. I'm going to be sick.

He pointed at a chair and I sat robotically, trying to do so in a way that would not upset my stitching.

Maria's arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes wary, her red hair pulled up in ponytail. She looked as if she had just woken up. Dad gave her a once-over, like he needed permission to scold me.

He didn't say anything at first, just strode around the counter, staring me down, then he slid something across the ugly table cloth.

At first I had no idea what it was. My brain was still wondering whether to make peace with the intrusion of thread, or to engage in nuclear war with it.

Gasping I stole the silver packet off the table, holding it angrily in my fist under the table. I could feel the panic distorting my features, my blood running wild in my veins, heart pounding broken lines.

"I can explain-" But I knew he wasn't going to give me the chance to. Not with this. Dad lifted his hand to hush me, rubbed his eyes and sighed.

He looked tired, he looked like he did when Mom left. There were no traces of sorrow or anger – or anything on the surface. It all lied beneath, the betrayal, the horror, the astonishment.

He looked tired.

"Harley…" He didn't say anymore, pressing his lips together and peering over his shoulder at Maria. Dad pushed his knuckles into the table, the hideous cloth crumpling around his fist.

I bit my lip, staring down into my hands. At my fist, where inside the sharp corners of the condom were digging into my palm.

"I found this in-" My snort cut him off.

"Really Dad? _Really_? You're covering for her, like I don't already know who did it." My voice was sadistic, I was going to make Bridgette pay.

He clenched his teeth a moment, eyes tapering, warning me. "Bridgette found this in your room, she was helping with laundry and didn't know what it was. Do you want to know what she asked me?"

No. I gnashed my teeth together, not looking up from my white knuckles.

"She asked me if this had anything to do with you and Stalon being in bed the other day." Dad spoke through his teeth, the way he did when he was furious but didn't want to yell at us. "Now, do you want to explain to me why he was in your room? Why you two were _in bed_?"

I peeked up at him through a haze of magenta, eyes flickering back down to my hands. He was waiting.

Shrugging a shoulder I blew out a breath. "Nothing happened." It was the truth, what did Bridgette know.

Dad snorted. "Do not lie to me Harley."

I gawked at him, "I'm not." I could tell Dad wasn't convinced, and why should he be? That frigging rat, Bridgette was going to wish she'd never been born when I got through with her.

"Oh please, you're one to talk." I hissed, angry now. "What did you tell me Dad? 'Oh Tinkerbelle, I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking.'" I quoted him perfectly, receiving the additional bonus of watching Maria wince.

He pointed a long finger at me. "Don't you dare!" He wasn't shouting but his tone was enough to make me jump. "That is nothing like this Harley-Claudia-" I hated my full name, he knew that "-You are sixteen – _sixteen_!"

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, Bridgette's already in love and she's nine."

Dad grunted out a humourless laugh. "Yes, Harley, she is nine-years-old. Do you have any idea how much your brother and sister look up to you? And the fact that she…." Dad banged his fist on the table, causing both Maria and I to squeak.

"The fact that she _saw_ you, she _saw you_, and you just-" I butt in again, unable to believe what I was seeing.

"Don't spare her and reprimand me – what about what I saw?" I slapped my palms on the table. "How is that fair at all? We weren't even doing anything-" I lifted the silver packet "-obviously."

"I hope not. I swear to God that will be the last time you so much as glance at Stalon Piece again." He was being serious, I knew, but he couldn't stop Stalon if I wanted to see him.

I scraped back in my chair, ignoring the twinge in my stomach and the noisy clatter of my chair to the floor. "What and you think I'm all that Bridgette sees? I know you're still seeing her." I stabbed my finger at Maria who look petrified.

The rage on my Father's face was replaced by sheer astonishment. I threw my hands up, "It's cool though – you get to fuck anybody you want to, so why not. It's one damned condom Dad, the only one I have ever had."

I tossed it at him. "But here, you seem to need this more than I do." He stretched his arm out as if to take my arm as I started to leave the room.

"Don't touch me." I snarled, stomping out into the hallway.

"Annett wait." His voice was frightened, completely devoid of the fury that had once been there.

I laughed wickedly, leaping up the stairs. "Just leave me alone."

Dad wouldn't talk to me. I wouldn't talk to Maria. I'd disowned Bridgette as my sister, watching Elliot play stupid video games instead – acting interested.

Weeks went by and I saw little of Rachel. She had changed the lock on our locker, which I took as more than a little of a hate gesture.

Thankfully, Michael was more than happy to have me. His locker was disorganized and more often than not, stuffed full of love and hate notes, brothers warning him, girl's phone numbers.

I pretended not to mind.

Art was suffocating, I had asked Ms. Thompson to move me three times only to wind up right back in my original place beside Gabriel.

Stalon had skipped out on school Thursday and I wasn't surprised to not see him in class on Friday.

I took the city bus into town, ignoring the alleyways where people beckoned me. My fingers trembled as I switched through red hair dyes, every picture on the front resembled my Mother, whom I hated.

Finally I decided on Strawberry Swing, pulling Bridgette's allowance out of my jean pocket. The lady at the register was tall, skinny, her eyes were pale like her skin, her hair hung around her face like a curtain, an unnatural shade of black.

Her name tag was crooked, but I acted as if it did not irritate me. The letters were fat, ugly block letters spelling out Meghan. Unconsciously I returned her grin, pushing my tongue ring out to run along my top lip. 

Meghan's lip-rings shimmered when she smiled at me, she promised that the colour would definitely bring out my eyes as she rang me through. I paid and trudged outside again, drawing my hood up as I headed toward a glowing _Tim Horton's_ sign.

I was determined to spend every last cent that I'd collected from the chubby, ceramic pig that had once belonged to me, which I'd smashed in Bridgette's room earlier today.

I had left the violet pieces of it's body on her floor and closed the door so Jack wouldn't get hurt. I could see her crying over the pathetic thing now.

Sipping a coffee, I sat in the back seat of the city bus, leaning my head against the window as I headed home. The girls beside me were giggling and squealing, talking about boys and taking pictures.

They couldn't have been much younger than me, maybe fourteen or thirteen. And I smiled when I got off the bus, not meeting their scowling eyes as I slipped out.

The falling sun walked me home, afternoon light warming my skin as I marched through the subdivision. Maria's beetle wasn't in the driveway when I reached the house, and Jack was jumped excitedly on the living room window.

I came in, greeted by his welcoming blue eyes and high-pitched grunts while I kicked my shoes off. Jack licked my hand, tasting the remnants of the Apple Fritter I had eaten.

Elliot scribbled away in his math notebook, trying his best to not be distracted by the cartoons on the television. At least one Tinker got their work done.

Wordlessly I dumped my coffee down the sink, throwing the paper cup out and pouring fresh food and water in Jack's bowls.

Bridgette met me at the top of the stairs, whimpering as she presented a handful of purple chunks to me. I smirked, shrugging a shoulder and ignoring her pleas for forgiveness, her swearing to never, ever tell on me again.

I left her pounding on the bathroom door as I started the preparations for dying my own hair. I'd never done this before, Rachel was always here to do the dirty work for me.

My stomach tautened at the memory of her. Did I actually miss Rachel Slater?

I was still trying to make up my mind when I rinsed my hair out, towel drying with Bridgette's favourite _Ruby Gloom_ towel.

Leaning over the counter I stared myself in the eye, my reflection gazing back at me.

My hair was a dark, damp, curly crimson. Clenching my teeth I rubbed at my eyes, Mom's eyes. Perhaps I should have bought contacts as well.

There was not a trace of magenta left, the purple-pink colour consumed by the red blaze. It didn't suit me, I thought. My original colour was brown like Elliot's. Like Dad's.

Changing out of my school clothes I pulled on a pair of comfy blue track pants and a grey thermal. Dumping my books on my bed I stuffed a pair of Stalon's black sweat pants and one of his green t-shirts in my knapsack.

Bridgette had withdrawn to her room, while I slunk down to the kitchen to make a peanut butter sandwich and head out. Elliot didn't bother asking me where I was going, just waved out the long windows when I left.

Turning around the side of the house I raced into the trees when I heard a car coming up the road. Barrelling through the bracken and twisted branches, I stumbled over thick tree roots and knotted twigs.

Grumpily I kicked my way through the last few bushels and into the cave clearing, screaming when a blur of fur lunged over my head.

Stalon landed easily, his eyes amused, his tongue lolling out the side of his black lips. I extended my hand, his nose was cold and wet where he pressed it to my arm, my hair, my chest.

"God." I breathed, forcing myself breathe the running my palm over the length of his muzzle, through the white hairs around his eyes.

Stalon exhaled, his breath warm and damp on my skin. His eyes became furious, narrowed, his teeth bared when he looked over his broad shoulder.

He bit my sleeve, carefully drawing me to my feet. "Here." I said, swinging my bag around to extract his clothes. "I brought you these."

Stalon bit the ball of clothing, to drop it to the grass. I watched him changed, unable to look away, paws shrinking and lengthening to large hands and slender fingers.

Big, robust shoulders popped and rolled. Stalon groaned, pointed jaws twisting back into straight, even teeth. Long, slight ears curving and shortening. His brindle ruff receded into his pores, and he collapsed onto the forest floor.

Stalon's hair was a mess of white, his face was shiny and slick, his chest heaving. "Tink."

I smiled, waiting while he dressed and moved toward me. His skin was hot, I could feel his heart thudding against his chest, driving him into me.

He smelt of wood, of wild, sweat and grass. "You weren't at school." I said curiously, Stalon's eyes became tapered, cagey. "What happened to you?"

He shrugged, "Did I miss much work?" Stalon took a step back, retreating and changing the subject. I knew this scenario too well, and a part of me was slightly relieved to feel the stress that I had felt before. Before Therianthropes and Lycans.

I refused to let him distract me. Too many times I'd let him get away with this, that now it seemed strange for me not to.

"You promised – no more secrets." I hadn't meant to sound so angry, the hostility of my words startled me a little.

Stalon sighed, jerking his dirty fingers through his snowy hair. "Why did you dye your hair? I thought the purple looked good."

Rolling my eyes I folded my arms tightly over my chest. Impatiently sucking the bar of my tongue ring up and pushing it out of my mouth.

Stalon's eyes searched my face, pleading for me to let this slide. I wanted to delve into those eyes. To drown in the defeated, frantic waves of sapphire blue, and to indulge in the wild curls of caramel brown.

He let go a heavy, thwarted groan. "Come here." Stalon strode off toward the mouth of the den, his gait reluctant and slow. My feet were hesitant at first, but I hurried after him, rushing into the darkness of the cavern.

In the shadow I saw him crouch, heard a cracking yelp, and then scrutinized him warily. Stalon held in his arms another wolf, it almost seemed wrong for such a large, noble creature to be held so easily.

I saw the makeshift bandages, made from fabric and slim pieces of wood. Dark patches of blood had soaked through the dressings and dried, making the grey material look an ominous black.

The wolf's auburn eyes were half lidded, crushed. The way he looked up at Stalon made my heart skip a beat, it was as if he'd been broken, murdered and brought back to die again.

"They're very proud." Stalon murmured, his voice was pained, his eyes glowing a glassy, vivid white. The wolf whistled lowly through his black nose. "It hurts to…it's just not fair."

I squeezed my arms, "Wh-what happened?" My voice cracked, eyes stinging. Stalon turned to return the wolf to it's original resting place.

Stalon made a face. "They chased me last night. Hunters, police, a couple guys from the rugby team. I had them going for a while – away from here, but she followed me-" Stalon motioned over his shoulder at the wolf "-they opened fire on us both. She was hit in the leg but it wasn't so deep in that I couldn't suck it out. When I tried to carry her back I got hit-"

Frantically I interrupted, "You were _shot_?" My voice echoed off the dank cave walls, coming louder and louder.

He just shrugged, "It isn't the first time Harley, you know that." Now Stalon looked frustrated. "I always heal and the bullets just pop back out."

Morbid. That was morbid. I clenched my teeth, "Wanna come home with me?"

Stalon was surprised a moment, then he smiled, "How many times are you going to try to get in my pants Harley Tinker?"

I snorted, turning my head so my face was hidden by a muddle of curly red. "Until I succeed."

He laughed, Stalon's warm fingers curving around my chin to lift my face. "I thought I was banned from your house for life."

Rolling my eyes, I bit Stalon's index finger. "Dad's not home." My words came out slurred, Stalon's brow creased as he looked at me from the corners of his eyes.

"Ah," He nodded thoughtfully, sighing and withdrawing his hand from my face. "It kind of ruins my plans, but I'll come, if you do me a favour."

I looked at him from the corners of my eyes, studying his devious grin. "Go on." I prompted suspiciously, Stalon pursing his lips.

"I'll come back with you if you spend the night with me-" His smiled widened "-here, tonight." I swallowed back the fervour and shrugged my shoulders in an attempt to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"Um, yeah, yeah I can do that." I nodded, ignoring his wily expression.

"Perfect."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

"Why am I doing your chores?" I hissed, pointing at the list that had been posted to the fridge. How I hadn't noticed it this morning was beyond me, I passed the stupid thing every day.

Bridgette rolled her shoulders in an innocent shrug, not meeting my gaze. Elliot threw his head to the side, clearing his eyes of his bangs and laughing loudly. "That's your punishment ya doorknob, Maria said you guys were doing something like, really, really bad."

I went to smack him but he jumped out of the way, snickering. "Well I'm not doing it." I scoffed, "Not all of it."

Elliot and Bridgette exchanged eyes, both looking doubtful. "Dad's going to be real mad at you-" Elliot jabbed his finger at Stalon "-especially you."

Bridgette nodded enthusiastically, "Maria said you're not supposed to be here."

Glowering furiously at Bridgette I snatched a handful of her red tresses, my sister screeching. "Wow, Bridge, I wonder why she said that."

Pushing her away Bridgette clutched her hair where my hand had been. "Oww," Hot tears began spilling down her face. "You're mean."

She darted from the kitchen, blubbering and stomping until finally her door slammed.

"That wasn't nice, Harls." Elliot mumbled, looking at me from the corners of his eyes, his voice hesitant.

I snorted haughtily, "You haven't seen _not nice_ yet – believe me." Elliot rolled his eyes, hurrying after our sister, shouting out comforting things.

"She did apologize." Stalon murmured, sitting on the table, his thick arms crossed over his chest while he watched me. I sneered at him, "You can say that because you didn't get in trouble."

He smiled wistfully, "What Mom doesn't know won't hurt her." Then he sighed, raking his fingers through his messy hair. I ghost past him, irately pulling the dishwasher open and glaring into the hot steam.

How the hell did we manage to use so many dishes between five people? I growled, leaning over to begin piling blue plates on the counter, ceramic clattered noisily, making Stalon grimace.

My eyes raked over the bag in the corner, my backpack, now stuffed full of clothes. A pair of black jeans, a mauve sweater and, a grey t-shirt all packed inside. The sleeves of my sweater hanging out slightly.

With a grunt I jerked a heavy pot of out from between two pans, and dropped it on the counter. "Do you remember that time you were talking about fate?" I asked, peering up at Stalon as I pushed the plates back into their proper cupboard.

He nodded reflectively, waiting for me to continue. I pursed my lips, "So what, does that mean something's meant to happen?"

"It's pre-planned, things happen for a reason, to take you somewhere you were destined to go." Stalon elaborated, his voice becoming vicious. "I'm fated to be a wolf."

Ignoring that statement I went on, "So what do you think-" I bent over, trying to reach a spoon stuck under the bottom rack "-I'm destined to…"

My voice had faded with Stalon's hands, appearing firmly on my hips. His nails were sharp, stabbing into my skin through the fabric of my track pants. I could feel the layers of surprise riddling my face, sucking in a shuddering breath I stood up, my back colliding with his chest.

His heart was racing, thudding against my back and rocking us forward. Stalon's fingers trembled where they rested, squeezing my sides.

Stalon kissed my neck. "You're fated to be an amazing person." His voice had grown quiet, muffled by my hair, "Untouched by mythical creatures and tragedies, nightmares and me."

Whirling around I met his sombre expression and smirked. "Are you saying I'm going to be a nun?" Stalon's lips twitched faintly. "Because, that is really going to piss me off."

His chest moved with his quiet laughter. My brow furrowed, "Do you remember the football party?" Once the question was out I couldn't see how he would possibly remember when he'd been so out of it.

Stalon's small smile faded as he tilted his head. "Bits and pieces of it," he nodded. "Drinking makes me really sick."

I pursed my lips, wondering if perhaps he even knew what he had said to me. "And violent," I murmured, remembering what Michael had told me.

Stalon nodded, his expression grave. "I used to drink when I was younger – because it makes me numb. I was aiming to just blunt my senses, maybe drive the wolf instincts away, but it actually stunted everything. Can't have one without the other."

Playing with my tongue ring I snorted a laugh. "You punched out Cole Booth." Stalon's solemn expression became one of wicked pride.

"We're um," He smirked, "_very_ territorial."

I looked at him from the corners of my eyes, bringing my arms up to fold them over my chest.

"You said you loved me." I wasn't looking at him when I said this. Instead I concentrated every ounce of my attention on a loose thread hanging from the hem of my sleeve.

As I tugged at it Stalon said, "Oh," Which caused annoyance to stir in my stomach. Had I expected him to go all soap opera on me or something? Rachel was right, I am pathetic.

"What if I could promise I could make it up to you?" Stalon's voice was confident and I ardently searched his face for any source of falsehood.

After brief deliberation I muttered, "I probably wouldn't believe you." Despite my words Stalon's smirk widened.

"Watch it Harley, I just might surprise you one of these days." His eyes held a devious gleam to them that made me shiver. What was he hiding?

I opened my mouth to ask, when Stalon stiffened, looking away from me to the kitchen door where Bridgette and Elliot ducked back into hiding.

Gnashing my teeth together I cracked my knuckles, heading off to collect some baby teeth when Stalon gripped my arm. I didn't pretend not to be startled when he kissed my cheek, my nose, my temple.

My stomach tightened, my stitches – though they didn't hurt as much – began to feel stretched, I clenched my teeth together, playing with my tongue ring. What was this feeling?

Not embarrassment, no, butterflies did not come with embarrassment.

There was an uncomfortable thrumming in my chest, as if my heart couldn't figure out how to relax again. My skin felt hot, my palms slick and wet while my lungs struggled to keep up with it all.

I was nervous. Like when I first got on a two-wheeled bicycle. Heart pounding erratically, fingers slipping on the handlebars, I bit into my lip and started pedalling. It felt as if I was flying.

Since when did Stalon ever make me nervous?

"Eww! You guys are so gross." Elliot said, his face muddled by his disgust, my brother sticking his tongue out and retreating to the living room.

Bridgette followed in silence, gasping suddenly. "Harley, Dad's home early!" She looked at me frantically, I caught the hope in her eyes, the anticipation of redemption.

I stared blankly at her, kicking the dishwasher closed. Taking hold of Stalon's arm, we raced to the side door in the kitchen. With my foot I pushed Jack's water dish out of the way, snatching up my backpack as we snuck outside.

Dad's whistling could be heard from the side of the house, I didn't listen for long, just until I was sure the front door had closed.

Watching the sky though the arms of the trees, I hadn't realized how dark it had gotten. It didn't feel as late as I assumed it was.

And yet the sky was marred by the deep shades of purple and rich blue, sudden splashes of vivid orange and pink blurred the edges of the clouds.

The bright faces of stars were just beginning to take form, peeking out from the blanket of vibrant colours. I could see the moon, the odd little crescent that it was, tucked away behind a warped curtain of dazzling pink.

"I wonder if he'll even notice I'm gone." I murmured, glaring over my shoulder where I could just barely see my house.

Stalon looked at me carefully, "He's worried about you Harley." His voice became brooding, miserable, "As he should be."

I snorted angrily, "Don't defend him." My voice cracked against the trees in the still evening, Stalon eyeing me carefully. "He doesn't know anything. About us. About Mom." I sneered, "He never has."

Stalon paused as we came into the clearing, his eyes were dark and concerned. "Don't wreck everything for me." He cocked his head to the side, listening to something in the distance.

He smiled abruptly, Stalon's eyes becoming excited just as quickly as they became hysteric. "I…I want to…" He exhaled heavily, "I need to show you something."

When I nodded Stalon's expression transformed to one of defeat, as if he'd expected me to say no – or he wanted me to say no. I pursed my lips, following him toward the mouth of the cave.

Stalon lifted his hand to me when we'd reached the entrance, I crossed my arms over my chest, watching him disappear into the darkness.

Listening quietly, I heard him fumbling around in the den. I saw the white glow of his eyes before I saw the rest of him. Stalon presented a thick brown sleeping bag, unzipping the noisy zipper and spreading it out on the ground.

"I thought about an air-mattress but-" He raised his hand at me, wiggling his fingers while I watched the gleam off of his black claws "-that wouldn't work."

Kneeling I helped him spread out the second sleeping bag atop the first, feeling the soft, fluffy inside and the shiny, smooth outside. My bag hit the grass with a grumbling _thwack_ as I went to lay down.

Stalon grabbed my hands, shaking his head slyly as he whispered, "Not yet." He released all but one of my hands, leading me back out of the clearing.

My stomach rolled uneasily, painful knots forming in my throat. I wanted this sense of anxiety to pass, it made my head rush. Where was he taking me?

We walked forever, further into the darkness, on some path that only he could see. Stalon would stop and tilt his head back, breathing in deeply and I knew he was smelling the air. He pulled me in another direction, laughing when I clung to his arm in the complete shadow.

Stalon finally stopped when we reached an opening. The grass began to die down to grains of silky sand that stuck between my toes. Just off of the sand lay a bank of water, it looked black as ink in the night, but reflected the trees, stars and moon like a rippling mirror that went on forever. This must be the place Stalon and his pack came to drink. Think of that, I realized just how important this place would be to him.

It was beautiful.

Stalon looked over his shoulder at me and grinned, I figured the shock was clear on my face. He cocked an eyebrow at me, "Was this in your dream?"

I just shook my head. For some reason that statement reminded me of how Rachel warned me these pants made my butt look big. How she said I could never pull off being a redhead, it was too much for my classical face. I wanted to cry.

Stalon squeezed my hand, bringing me down to sit on the sand. "Have you ever heard of the star Altair?" It was a rhetorical question, but I shook my head anyways. "It's one of the Summer Triangle stars, also known as Alpha Aquilae. It's Arabic for 'the flying one'."

I sighed, slouching into his side, not really listening to what he was saying. Just watching him speak, how happy he looked sharing this with me, made my stomach lurch in a warm, fuzzy way.

"There's this kind of reddish one, which was thought to be an enemy of the God, Mars. That's why it was named Antares." He looked at me, although his face was slowly being covered by night, his eyes shone bright.

"And there's Arcturus, 'Bear Guard,' it's called that because of the constellation it follows, Ursa Major, which means 'The Great Bear'." Stalon smiled at me showing his teeth and studying my face.

Pursing my lips I gazed up at the darkening sky, rolling the ball of my tongue ring along the roof of my mouth. I jerked my fingers through my hair and cleared my throat.

"I know the Dog Star." I tried to sound smart and Stalon laughed.

"_He who awakens the Gods of the air and summons them to their office of bringing the rain_." He nodded, easily outwitting me.

I pressed my face into Stalon's shoulder. "Do you ever wish you just didn't have to go home at all?" I peered up at him, realizing what a stupid question that was.

Stalon nodded gravely, combing his fingers through his hair. "Yup." He turned to me then and smirked derisively, "But soon I won't have to."

I tried not to let his words have an effect on me. "I'll still come see you when you're all hairy and gross."

He chuckled loudly, his brown and blue eyes gradually becoming a frightening green-white. "That should be interesting – an animal for a boyfriend."

Stalon's face became very serious then, and he looked at me from the corners of his eyes. "Listen." I was confused for a moment, wanting to smack him. Obviously I couldn't hear _that_ well.

Then I heard it.

It started out long and lonely, a cry in the night. I jumped hearing a crisp howl in the distance. A few seconds slipped by before there was another responding call, it was so clear, so beautiful.

"Close your eyes Tink." I almost didn't hear Stalon at all, I was so focused on the numerous voices in the dark.

Closing my eyes I tried to center all my attention on the howls, the ones that sounded so despondent and dismal it broke my heart. While others seemed to go on forever, vivacious and electrifying, making my breath hitch on my tongue.

It made my ears ring, caused disappointment to stir anxiously in my stomach when they would stop singing.

I tried to figure out the distances between the wolves, counting the silence between each howl in an attempt to find out how far away they were.

I gasped, clutching Stalon's t-shirt in my fists when he pressed his mouth to my throat. He considered me a moment and smiled, his words a hot breath on my pulse, "Close your eyes."

And I did. Trying not to be surprised when he kissed me, what was so different about now than any other time? Nothing. I was just being stupid.

Shivers claimed my spine, sending icy jolts up my back wherever Stalon placed his lips. My face, my hair, my ears. I clenched my teeth until my jaw hurt, holding my breath deep inside my stomach while my lungs burned.

The howls distracted me now, startled me. They made my heart race, made Stalon's kisses seem more than what they were.

Struggling against myself I blew out a breath, opening my eyes and meeting his pale gaze. "Harley," Stalon was saying, why was I melting? I felt liquefied, a puddle in the sleeping bag. A mess of electrified nerve endings.

"No." Why did I sound so pitiful?

Stalon smiled, his hands cupping my face. "Close-" He kissed my nose "-your-" my mouth "-eyes."

I tried, squeezing my eyes shut as I bit my lip. Why couldn't I do this, it was easy enough – keeping your eyes closed. No big deal right? Then why did I jump with every press of his hands, every push of his fingers?

Stalon hooked his hands under the base of my thermal, drawing the material up passed my stitches, my face, my hands. I squealed at the sudden cold, pulling him to me.

Fluttering my eyes wide, I looked up at him carefully, watching the green fabric of his shirt slip over his shoulders and into the grass.

I narrowed my eyes at him, examining the muscles surging in his shoulders, the way the shadow curved around the fat veins in his arms.

The elastic bands of my track pants slithered over my hips, and I shivered as they moved down my thighs, up over knees.

"Stop, stop, stop." I waved my hands at him, sitting up to try and reach his level, I held Stalon's face between my palms. "I can't sit still anymore I just-"

"Harley." Stalon interrupted, "I'm finished." He stood slowly, the buckle of his belt clicking as he undid it. Stalon's jeans landed heavily on the sand and he smirked, at that moment I realized I was staring

It was hard to grin now that I was terrified. Oh, how _lovely_.

I thought at first there was supposed to be this sense of surprise, of seeing someone like this, someone whom you really care for.

I'd always imagined it would be like opening a present on Christmas, but it wouldn't just be about shredding the wrapping paper to get to what was inside.

Instead pulling at the seams, the corners where the tape had been expertly placed. Unravelling the ribbons and bows, to be amazed at what was hidden beneath, to savour that moment – those few seconds of awe.

But it wasn't like that, because I'd already seen Stalon like that, over and over and over again. That's what seeing him shift was for me.

He held a hand out to me and I gawked at it for a few seconds, watching the way the bones twitched under his skin. Gripping his fingers in mine I let him hoist me to my feet. Stalon stared at the water for the longest time, then glanced at me, sinking my toes into the sand.

Pulling my fingers from his, I shoved him towards the bank Stalon stumbling in up to his knees with a sharp gasp. He clenched his teeth, eyes turning black as he growled at me, any laughter that had been bubbling to the surface before I swallowed speedily.

Biting my lip I started into a sprint, the echoing splashes of Stalon chasing after me, sent adrenaline ploughing through my veins. I screamed when he grabbed me around my waist, taking me right off the ground and backward into the water.

It was so cold that if he hadn't been holding me, I probably would have leapt clear out of the water in half the time it took him to get me in it. Stalon was laughing. I wanted to hit him, but my whole body was stricken by the icy waters around us.

Something warm and sticky stuck to the bottom of my hand, between my fingers it felt like clay. When I lifted it out of the water, all I saw was mud. I rolled over in Stalon's grasp, smearing my palm over his shoulder. Sitting in it, the water almost reached my shoulders, my teeth chattered. Stalon was completely unfazed by it, moving awkwardly to look at the messy mark I'd smudged on his skin.

I squealed, turning away as fast as I could when he cupped a pool of muck in his palms and threw it at me. The dark, lukewarm mud splattered down the front of me, down my chest and over my throat.

Swearing under my breath I crawled towards him, Stalon's hands up in surrender when I lunged. His arm coiled around my back, plastering a hot, sticky layer of sludge along my waist. Pinning me there against his chest, I squirmed clawing at his shoulders, dragging my blackened fingers through his snow white hair.

Stalon wiped a handful of the clay down my right arm, and all along my jaw. He smirked when I jerked my face away, his nails digging into my side when I bit the smooth skin above his collarbone.

His sticky hand fit under my chin, bringing my face up to his. Only when he kissed me again did I finally realize I was pretty much naked. The cold went away instantly when the sharp points of his teeth pricked into my lip.

My hands slipping over his skin, I pushed Stalon further into the water to fully put myself over him. He didn't realize this until it was almost too late. Almost.

"Harley." His voice was not human, the horrible scrape of his nails on my back made me flinch. Stalon's hair snagged on the glistening beads of mud lining his forehead. "I can't."

It took me a moment to find my voice again, buried way down in the void of my stomach. "D-don't say that." My words shook, and I inhaled deeply to ward off my tears. "Look at me."

The muscles in Stalon's jaw were throbbing madly, his eyes entirely black when he looked at me, his teeth were jagged and his shoulders were juddering.

He gasped, Stalon's hand coming to my face, feeling the damp trails curving over my cheeks. "Are you gunna hurt me?" My voice was a whisper, I scrutinized his eyes intensely.

Stalon's nostrils flared, his eyes tapering as he shook his head. I smiled, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

Sunlight burned my shoulders, my eyelids feeling hot. Yawning I rubbed them, stretching out until my back cracked. My bra stuck to me like glue, still damp with the cold water from last night.

Opening my eyes I rolled into the cool patch beneath the sheets, where there was a nice pool of shade. Light poured into the clearing, casting the tall shadows of the trees onto the lengthy grass.

Here I saw Stalon. He wore his jeans again, his torso covered in a hard, cracking layer of mud. The way he was curled up so tightly in a ball seemed so strange for someone so big.

I grinned, watching him sleep a moment longer. Sinking into the cushiony down of the sleeping bags I sighed, ripping my fingers through my hair.

"Harls." Stalon's voice was hoarse, riddled with a good sleep, he blinked three times, looking at me from beneath his lashes. I searched for an opening in the lengthy bed of sleeping bags, inviting him in.

Stalon crawled up, stretching out and exhaling noisily – the way Jack did after a long nap. He slid in beside me, ducking his face into the curve of my neck.

We were quiet for a moment, delving in the cool of the shade, my palm sweeping over the vicious scar on his chest.

I touched his shoulder, unable to picture them popping and shuddering, ripping open like they had last night. Stalon peered at me with his brown eye, his blue eye closed in the creases of the sleeping bag.

"Hey." He said, his voice quiet as always, relaxed and hushed.

I grinned, "Hi."

Stalon's brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a hard line while his eye drifted away from me. "Did I – did it hurt?" Stalon's question was but a mumble beneath his breath.

I nodded too quickly and Stalon swore, squeezing his eyes shut until ugly, fat little wrinkles rolled over his eyelashes.

"I made you cry." His voice shattered through an octave, Stalon bringing his hand over his face. "I'm sorry Harley."

Reaching out I gripped his fingers, drawing them away from his face to bring them to mine. I pressed my lips to his knuckles, seeing his fingers tremble.

His breath came sharply through his nose, Stalon moving to look at me fully. "Were you – I mean…" A deep, crimson hue burned into his cheeks. "Was I…_good_?"

I laughed, scooting beyond his arms to curve into his chest. "Definitely." Stalon smirked broadly, burying his face in my hair. "I told you, you couldn't hurt me."


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Teeth clamped onto the baby hairs at the back of my neck, and I yelped when Stalon pulled. Turning around I punched him in the gut, my knuckles popping while he smirked.

He leaned in, but not to kiss me. Stalon pressing his face into my hair, I shivered as he inhaled, the tip of his nose trailing from my pixie layers to my forehead. His nose was _icy_!

Stalon kissed my eyelid, my temple, then he sighed, "Hey. Tink." I smiled, pressing my nails into the smooth skin of his arms.

I tilted my head back, but the sound of the school bell ripped us apart. I glowered blackly into the ugly floor tiles. Stalon pressed his lips to my forehead, mussing my hair before he slipped into the current of our peers.

Catching glimpse of the chocolate brown torrent of Rachel's hair, I faced mine and Michael's locker, playing with the lock longer than was necessary.

It finally clicked open and I drew the creaky metal door open, barely managing to catch a handful of thin strips of paper. I stared down at the collection of phone numbers, irately shoving them into Michael's coat pocket to join his cigarettes.

Rachel slapped the locker beside me and I jumped, her eyes were wickedly narrowed, a giant grin on her lips. I looked at her a moment longer, wondering if she was going to say something. When she didn't I started to pull my books off the top shelf.

"So, he must've been a fantastic fuck."

I almost thought I heard her wrong, gawking at her, taking in her fiendish, toothy smile and sinister auburn eyes. I most definitely had heard her correctly.

"Wh-what?" I fumbled with my binder, holding it tightly to my chest while I closed my locker.

Rachel rolled her eyes, "Don't play dumb Harls." She tilted her head. "You've been coasting around all morning like you're high. Stalon's been strutting around like he's some frigging alpha male. Besides, I just know you babes."

My attempt to respond only made things worse. I stammered, and I could see the evident annoyance on Rachel's face. Her eyes brightened suddenly and she slipped closer to me.

The second bell rang, now we were both going to be seriously late.

"So…" Rachel murmured, her eyebrows arching as she elbowed me. "Give me some details!"

I clenched my teeth, rubbing my eyes, careful to avoid the thick lines of black liner there. "It's kind of…personal Rach." I shrugged a shoulder, "Stalon wouldn't want me running around telling everyone."

"Ohhh!" She cooed disappointedly, "He wasn't good? Well, I guess it wouldn't matter right, I mean you've never done it before."

Fighting the urge to smack her, I sighed. "_No_, it's not like that-" She interrupted me.

"What? You just don't wanna tell me?" Rachel pouted melodramatically, but I could see the outrage in her eyes. "Harls you know you can trust me, like, we've been besties since basically preschool."

I rolled my eyes. "I didn't go to preschool Rach." I don't know what about her expression made me so angry, but I couldn't hold it in. "No, I don't have anything to say to you about what happened-" I bumped passed her, pacing out into the hall "-but for the record, yeah, he is a fantastic fuck."

Rachel snorted, and I could feel her eyes gouging into my back as I hurried down the hallway.

I didn't want to think of anything she had said. Telling Rachel anything about what had happened on the weekend made me feel…sick, dirty. I wanted to shower.

I went to class as told, seated across from Stalon and gazing at the empty seat in front of me, where Rachel usually sat. Perhaps I should have asked her about Gabriel?

She wouldn't have told me, Rachel would have made me spill every last detail about Stalon and I before she even gave me a hint. I hated her for that.

As Ms. Stewart went on I began to wonder what troubles I could be letting her get into. If I told her Gabriel was a vampire Rachel would laugh at me, but if I didn't…

Rachel's dead body came to mind, the petrified shock of her face pressed against the nimble body of the snake. I could see the imprint of her expression as clear as day, but it was coated over with a series of disgusting, dusty scales.

We were reading through our notes, preparing for a test on Wednesday when Rachel came in. She said she was speaking with the guidance councillor, but she stunk of cigarette smoke.

I saw Stalon's nose wrinkle in repulsion, eyes tapered, lips beginning to twitch.

Rachel winked at me before taking her seat, flipping her hair over her shoulder so it would hit me in the face. I thought about snatching a handful and cutting it off.

The class was quiet for the most part, low whispers buzzing around the room. I read, focusing as hard as I could on my papers I ignored everyone.

Up until a loud buzzing noise broke my concentration, I flickered my eyes over at Stalon, gazing through a mask of red hair. Stalon extracted a slim black phone from his pocket, it looked so awkward in his big hand.

I watched him as he brought it to his ear, speaking so quietly I couldn't hear him. I stiffened when he looked at me, eyes bulging, the panic I saw in his face made my heart leap into overdrive.

He pushed back in his chair, snapping his phone shut and standing. Ms. Stewart was demanding he return to his seat, but it was obvious he had no care for her words.

My stomach knotted, mouth becoming dry. Anxiety bubbled in my veins, a million different locations flashed through my mind when I started speculating on where he could be going.

But my thoughts kept reverting to one place. I blushed.

I did not read my notes for the rest of the period. It felt as if forever had passed by the time the bell rang for lunch. I could not find Stalon anywhere, none of the rugby guys had seen him, and Michael appeared more agitated than concerned when I asked him if he heard anything.

There had never been a day like this before. Never had it seemed time was standing perfectly still and all I wanted was for the next second to pass.

Playing apprehensively with my tongue ring I tried calling his phone. He'd turned it off.

It was a huge relief when school was out, when I finally stepped into the afternoon air. It had been like I was trapped below ice for ages and was reaching the surface at long last.

Rachel tripped me in the hallway, and my backpack went flying, spinning on the floor. She sauntered off, leaving me to crawl across the floor after it.

My fingers came in contact with the rough fabric, but someone else picked it up.

Gabriel smiled at me, "I missed you in art." He sounded genuinely hurt and I scowled, rising to my feet to rip my bag out of his hands. He looked far too amused, mouth fidgeting restlessly on his face.

"Leave me alone." I hissed, now was not the time, and I didn't want to get myself stuck between a rock and a hard place when Stalon wasn't around.

Gabriel brushed his hair back behind his ears, gazing down at my backpack. "You're welcome." I frowned, pushing around him.

"I never asked you for help." I hustled through the doors, into the silky breath of a cool afternoon. Clenching my teeth I gripped the handrail, jumping two steps at a time until my sneakers hit the pavement of the parking lot.

Miss Stephanie grinned sweetly as I stepped on, making a compliment about my hair as I crept to the back of the bus.

What besides Beck made Stalon antsy like that? Okay, what besides Beck, perfume and, Gabriel made Stalon antsy like that? I tried flick through my mental notes, attempting to remember things about Therians that I usually overlooked.

Nothing.

He'd looked…scared?

That thought put a whole new series of knots in my stomach. My head bounced against the hard windowpane as the bus moved over potholes, making thinking all the more difficult.

Walking home was…strained, every time I rounded the bend to my house I flinched, ready for Thor's onslaught that never came.

Gazing across the street at the Mudd household, I could hear Clayton playing inside – he'd better remember me when he becomes a famous violinist.

Jack leapt against the living room window when I came home, his barks were piercing and shrill. I watched him chase his tail for a few minutes when I opened the door, waiting for him to do his business before we went inside.

I kept the usual routine: feeding the dog, putting the leftovers in the microwave – enough for Elliot and me. I thought about calling Dad, to let him know I got home okay. More or less stared at the phone for a good fifteen minutes.

Quickly I decided against it, figuring Bridgette would call him, whining that I refused to feed her. I wasn't her frigging Mother – kid was nine-years-old, she could take care of herself!

Impatiently I turned the television on, Jack laying across my lap on the couch. After a few minutes I realized it was pointless, Jack had fallen asleep and the TV was entertaining itself.

It was hard, but I restrained myself well until the twins came home, then I snatched the phone off the receiver, hastily typing in Stalon's home number.

Mrs. Piece picked up the same time as the answering machine did, she apologized, stammering over her words. She sounded breathless, as if she was forcing herself to speak.

"Is Stalon…okay? Can I talk to him?" I had to raise my voice, because Bridgette and Elliot were bickering in the kitchen. Jack whimpered, jumping off me to race to the rescue.

Cheyenne exhaled loudly, "You-you mean he's not there?" She had suddenly become frantic, "Oh Harley! Something very bad has happened and I think it'd be best if you just…stayed away from him for a while."

I cringed, not enjoying the sound of that at all. I promised I'd let her know if I heard from Stalon, just as I hung up the doorbell rang.

The fighting in the kitchen ceased as Elliot and Bridgette dashed for the door. I climbed over the couch, shoving them both to the floor and reaching for the doorknob.

Stalon's eyes were closed, his hands in tight, quivering fists down by his sides. He didn't look at me, just stepped inside, Bridgette and Elliot left us – as far as I know.

"Are you o-" He didn't give me the chance to finish.

"She's pregnant Harls." Stalon's teeth glimmered in the hallway light, a set of pointed jaws. I gulped heavily, feeling it twist in my throat, dropping to the bottom of my stomach in a weighty lump.

His eyes were black, the veins around them pulsating. Taking hold of one of his fists I kicked the door shut, leading him inside. "Your Mom just called. She's worried about you."

Stalon snorted, narrowing his eyes sadistically. "I would imagine." He plummeted to the couch, brow creasing, lips twitching.

I tried to keep the nightmarish images out of my head, the pictures that I had seen, all the blood and tears and pain that came with being part of Stalon's family.

He studied me while I sat down beside him, ignoring the almost tangible aura emitting from him, Stalon seemed so hostile. More now than he had been with Jack.

But he wasn't snarling or anything like before. It was this…seriousness that frightened me.

"You're here though, you won't let that happen again." I intoned, even my voice sounded intimidated.

Stalon clenched his teeth, his black eyes stabbing through the TV, a quiet, rumbling growl thundered in his chest. My heart raced – he could probably hear it by now.

He looked as if I'd insulted him. "You know I can't do anything." I gave my best shot at standing my guard, hoping the fear wouldn't show in my eyes.

It was noiseless, yet so loud. My ears were ringing with panic, I wanted desperately for him to say something – anything! However, Stalon remained silent, staring back at me as if he expected me to run away screaming.

I considered it.

Stalon sighed, breaking the tension as he tore his fingers through his white hair. "I'm going to try and talk her into an abortion." Immediately I began to object, but he wouldn't so much as let me get a word out.

"Not again." Stalon's voice trembled. "You saw what he did to me, and I can't let that happen again."

My eyes narrowed, "What if it's not a Therian like you." I murmured hesitantly, speaking to my twiddling thumbs.

Stalon made a noise in the back of his throat, it sounded horribly like a yelp. "Even better." He laughed humourlessly, "They would _kill_ me."

Biting back tears I gave him a fleeting glance. Stalon lifted a hand, curling his claws in my pixie hair, "It isn't the same Harley, it won't even be human."

I pinched myself, tuning out his words and focusing all my attention on the pain. I felt my nails break the skin, hot tears dribbling down my cheeks. "It's still murder," My tone was pathetic, a whisper that even I could barely hear.

Stalon's nail grazed my cheek and I shivered. "She'll do it – you know she will." He lifted my face, Stalon's rage faded, he looked so hysteric attempting to convince me this was right.

Cheyenne had probably already made an appointment to get it done. I would hate her for it. Although, was it better that she have the baby taking the risk that it could be a Lycan?

Even if it was, that would be putting herself and Stalon in jeopardy. And that wasn't worth making Beck happy – not after what he did. Beck deserved to die a thousand times for all that he had done.

"You don't know how hard it's been," He was saying. "Don't you think I've wanted that?" Stalon pointed to the roof, where the twins were running around upstairs. I could hear their banging footsteps, could hear Jack chasing after them.

"What if it was like me Tink?" Stalon snorted, "Another accident."

I glowered at him. "Don't say that." Stalon rolled his eyes, dropping his hand into his lap. "Can't you go? Just leave him."

Stalon's eyes raked over me, I could feel them like claws ripping over my skin, rattling shudders rocked up my spine. "We've tried." He shrugged a shoulder. "Didn't work."

This caught me by surprise. "You tried leaving Vancouver?" I hadn't planned on sounding so stunned by the thought. After all, Stalon had every right to leave this place.

He shook his head, "After the suicide scares we left, my Mother and me. We went up to Newfoundland for a while, staying with some family up there – my step-cousins are Therians. It helped me…cope.

"It was a few months before he found us, and believe me, I made sure our scents were _buried_." Stalon's expression became sombre, his eyes seeming to shrink back inside his head.

I felt more than saw him grow tense, it was as if some invisible force was shoving me back, forcing me away from him. Stalon's eyes became dark, narrow slits, his jaw clenched vehemently.

"He made it out to be a joke, like we were cats that had run away from home." He shuffled on the red cushions uncomfortably. "It's a Lycan thing I guess, when you're mated, you're mated for life. Right up 'till now I can't figure out why Mom wants to be with him, whether she's just scared or somehow actually has feelings for him."

Rolling the bulb of my tongue ring over the roof of my mouth I squeezed my thighs, digging my nails into the fabric of my pants. Stalon was quiet for a while, when I looked up he seemed diffident, like he was fading into some different world.

"Mated?" I asked, more or less to break the eerie silence that had fallen over us. Stalon tilted his head to the side, his eyes roaming the ceiling. He wasn't listening to me yet.

I blew out a noisy breath, catching the faint twitch of his eye before he gazed at me. "Mated?" I repeated.

He nodded slowly, mechanically. "They…um, _claim_ things. Land, cities, forests, _people_-" He paused to take in my expression "-not like peeing on trees but actually claiming them, when it comes to people you don't have a choice-"

"Love at first sight?" I interjected hopefully.

The corner of his mouth twitched, Stalon bringing his nails through my hair. "No. It isn't always love. For Lycans you see something you want and you take it, no questions asked. They're very dominant and very, frighteningly territorial."

I listened diligently, putting out my best effort not to be distracted by the screaming and barking coming from upstairs.

"I don't get it." I shook my head, "So he just decided that he liked your mom and that was that?"

Stalon moved his head from side to side. "Kind of. If you're lucky, then maybe you'll end up having feelings for the person who you're mated with-" He smiled darkly "-if not…"

Scowling I crossed my arms tightly over my chest. Stalon's eyes were wide and amused. "My Mother was one of the lucky ones – for the most part. My Aunt, for example, not so much."

"What do you mean your Aunt?" I scuttled closer, bouncing on the couch to incline towards him, Stalon blinked at me.

"Kathryn was a Lycan who married into my Father's side of the family, which suited them perfectly. She was nicer to my Mother and I than most of them are, but her compassion ended up killing her." Stalon heaved a sigh, rolling his shoulders until they made a disgusting popping noise.

Ignoring my frown he went on, "Octavian and Leander were eight when it happened. One night, Eben killed her." I opened my mouth to say something and Stalon lifted his hand to hush me. "I don't know why, I think they were arguing and he got so mad he bit her."

Stalon's hand went immediately to his throat, a disgusted gleam coming to his eyes. "He tore out her jugular and that was that, Octavian and Leander never say a word about her – they don't seem to care at all."

Sneering I rubbed my neck, swallowing a large knot as I shivered. "They were married for nine years," Stalon murmured. "I don't think she ever loved him." His voice was a creepy monotone, a ghost caressing my ear.

Stalon left later that evening, well, more like climbed out my window – but it's the same thing.

Dad was working late, but he never called to check in on us. For some reason I couldn't get the image of him and Maria out of my head. Something, way down in the pit of my stomach, told me Dad wasn't working late and Maria wasn't still out shopping.

Angrily I fed the twins, slept through a movie with Jack and was just in the kitchen fixing myself a coffee when the doorbell rang. I hurried myself to the door, licking sugar off my fingers when I opened it.

Rachel shoved by me, not bothering with a hello. She crouched, squeezing Jack's face and squealing something at him that I couldn't understand.

The kettle screeched, I locked the door again, coasting back to the kitchen to pull it off the stove. Steam lapped at my face as I poured the boiling water into a mug, coffee grinds stirring around in a black dance.

"Honey, I'm home!" Rachel shouted, her arms wrapping around my shoulders, her hair whipping me in the face as she gave me a big, sticky, wet kiss on the cheek.

When I didn't respond she tugged at a piece of my teased hair. Swinging her hips and humming a song Rachel fiddled with the knobs on the kitchen radio. She settled for Blah Blah Blah by Ke$ha, grinding the lower cabinets and yelling along.

"Come on babes," She snatched at my arms, waving them as if they were lifeless strings of spaghetti. "I said I was sorry." She pouted.

Glaring at her I ripped my arms away, turning down the volume and sipping at my coffee. "No you didn't." I hissed. Rachel made a face as if she'd been sucking on a sour candy.

Twirling her hair around her finger she sighed, hoisting herself up on to the counter and eyeing me as I sipped from Dad's mug. "Well," She said flatly, "You know I'm sorry."

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, smiling at me when I peeked up at her over the edge of my mug. "Besides," She said in her baby voice. "You and Stalon have been _so busy_, I didn't think you'd really care."

I slammed the cup down on the counter, Rachel giggled. "But that isn't the reason I'm here, you see," Rachel truly looked upset now. "I'm having issues with Gabriel. I think I'm going to have to stop seeing him."

Trying not to look too relieved I nodded for her to continue, clearing my mind of all sarcasm. Rachel crossed her legs, straightening out her jean skirt and playing with one of her purple extensions.

"Well, he's really – I dunno, _weird_-" Inhaling quietly I tried not to laugh "-and it's not like he's even asked me out yet, ya know. And he lives in this crazy big house way the hell out of town, but he lives alone." Rachel bit her lip, her auburn eyes cast downward.

She wasn't telling me something.

"Yeah," I murmured with a curt nod. "You're beautiful, I don't know what's keeping him." My voice was rickety, cracking here and there while I strained to keep myself in check.

If Rachel was in the mood to spill her guts out, then I was all ears, anything that could possibly help me figure out what Gabriel wanted.

He threw her arms up. "I know!" She scoffed, prattling her fingers along the edge of the counter, while she bobbed her head to the beat of a new song.

"Plus, he's got snakes…in his room." She shuddered violently. Isabel came to mind first and I reached out to clutch the counter, I studied my trembling fingers while my knuckles turned white.

"Ew!" I squeaked, not wanting to dig at this, knowing I had no other choice.

Rachel nodded enthusiastically. "He's got this yellow one that practically slept _with_ us." Rachel looked genuinely disturbed. "Like, talk about your new levels of kinky."

Rachel took my mug, bringing it to her nose to inhale the scent of fresh coffee. She sighed, taking a long swig before placing it back in front of me.

"He wasn't what I thought he was Harls, not at all, every time we – well, _you know_ – it ends and I just wake up in my room. I remember everything that we did, but I can't ever remember coming home." Rachel's auburn eyes were scared, her full bottom lip quivering slightly.

All I could think of was how badly I needed to call Stalon. He needed to know this, every word of it. He'd know what to do – what Gabriel had done to Rachel.

Pursing my lips I threw on my most dramatic expression. "Hey, Rach do you know how to get to his house?" I knew the answer before she said it, so when she nodded I smirked. "Wanna egg it?"

Rachel leapt off the counter, running to my fridge while I ran out into the hall, screaming for Elliot and Bridgette to come downstairs.

Lying, I told them we were going out to the movies, I even wrote up a note for Dad, sticking it to the basement door. If anything, he was going to go down there to play with his toys before he did anything else.

Rachel lead Jack, Elliot and Bridgette outside where her step-dad's truck waited. I phoned Stalon, he wasn't home. I tried his cell but I knew he wouldn't answer.

I grabbed my coat and sprinted outside, locking the door and racing to the truck. Rachel had a pile of egg cartons stacked between us in the cab, Elliot was playing on his Game Boy and Bridgette was smothering Jack.

The moon above us was full, fat and glowing. It stared down at me like one big eye, following me wherever we went. Rachel blared the music in the truck, and I was actually pretty happy that she'd chosen to steal her dad's truck tonight.

Eyes on the trees, I hoped Stalon would follow us, if he had the mind to anyways. Crossing my fingers I stared straight ahead, through the dirty windshield, shrieking the lyrics to a rock song with Rachel as we sped through town.

By the time we had slipped out into the depth of the trees, onto an odd, narrow dirt road that I'd never noticed before I was terrified. My earlier drive and adrenaline had diminished completely, I was trembling uncontrollably when we came to Gabriel's road.

There were no houses on this road, but I could see the black roof of one far off in the distance. Bridgette and Elliot were too caught up in the music to realize we were no where near the theatres.

Jack, however, was not.

I looked at his glowing eyes in the dark and he whimpered, his cold nose brushing over my cheek. He was shaking too. Jack's eyes darted towards the window, a low, strident whistle coming from his black lips.

When I gazed out into the shadows, the tall, ugly oil black trees loomed over us in a suffocating way. _God, Stalon,_ I thought. _Please, please be out there. _

"This is it." Rachel finally said, pointing up the lengthy driveway to a hideous, yellowish mansion, it was grown over in dark vines, surrounded by gigantic evergreens. "Weird right." She added, picking up a crackling, styrofoam package.

I swivelled around in my seat glaring at the twins. "If you so much as think about breathing any of this to Dad I swear to God I'll leave you both here."

Bridgette and Elliot nodded in synchronization, locking their lips with an invisible key. Taking a big breath I climbed out of the cab, taking a carton of eggs with me and clicking the automatic lock for the doors.

With a cry of laughter Rachel went dashing up the drive, I followed on her heels. I couldn't hear anything over the beat of my own heart, the lashing whip of wind on my skin and the biting cold nibbling at my arms, face and hands.

I was too scared to stop running, fixating my wide eyes on Rachel's long, milk white legs. It was not dark out, not with the eye of the moon on my back. It poured white light over everything, illuminating Gabriel's unsightly home.

Although, with it's light came much darkness. Shadows twisted beneath everything, mine ran along side me, looking stronger, faster and braver than I felt.

A growl made me pause, my heart in my throat, I could hear the pounding echo of Rachel's suede boots clomping up the pavement. Fear-stricken I stared into the ominous obscurity, feeling the smooth styrofoam fall from my fingers.

White eyes peered out from the night, I only saw the side of the colossal brindle head before, in a blur it continued up the drive.

Stalon was not graceful, I could see, the large silhouette of the wolf, I heard his paws as they crushed everything below them. Heard his gigantic body as it tore through bushels and trees, winced at the loud scrape of his claws on stone.

Then, there was nothingness.

Turning I stared down the drive, I could just barely see the headlights from the truck. Taking a step towards the light, a jolt of panic sparked beneath my skin.

"Rachel!" I gasped, spinning on my heels to charge up the driveway.

Gabriel's mansion was much, much larger up close. It towered over me, like a creature about to snatch me up in it's jaws. The splat of egg yoke and the shattering shells around them broke my focus.

I could see Rachel's figure, stared as she brought her arm back and threw her whole body weight into the launch of the egg. Her long hair thrashed around her bodice, flaying about her face. I heard her faint snivelling as she did it.

Blinking, I dashed around the side of the house, searching for a low window. Frantically climbing the scratchy rough bark of a fat tree, I jumped up and heaved myself onto a high branch.

Throwing myself over I grabbed the icy wooden windowsill. It snapped and groaned under my weight, and I grunted when I smacked into the frozen stone wall.

Evil came in a horrid torrent through my skin, made my heart still as it passed through my body. I felt death move it's claw-like fingers through my short hair, felt it's glacial tongue sweep over the side of my face.

With a muffled scream I slipped from the sill, arms flailing as I fell. Teeth snagged the back of my shirt, a loud snarl rocked through my body as Stalon hit the side of the house hard, leaving an imprint of himself while slinging me over onto the lumpy soft grass.

Rolling over myself, my head cracked against the rigid trunk of a tree. Bark ripped at my hair, there was definitely going to be a bruise there in the morning.

Moaning I rubbed the back of my head, crawling up to my hands and knees. Stalon's gleaming white eyes swept over me, he looked at me the way my Father would when he was both concerned and furious.

He pulled me up to my feet, refusing to let me get to the house. I swore under my breath, jerking out of my coat I threw it over his face, like Bridgette did with Jack.

Stalon shredded through it furiously, I was back on the branch before he could stop me. Taking a run at it, Stalon managed to spring off the trunk and take hold of my pant leg.

I gouged my nails into the unlevelled bark, he wasn't even pulling and already he was bringing me down. Struggling against his resilient teeth my jeans finally tore, I swung my leg up, scrambling across the branch and taking a jump.

Hands out before me, I hit the glass, it shattered easily and I dropped onto aged, glossy hardwood landing on my stomach in a pool of broken glass.

The deafening sound of breaking glass seemed to echo and re-echo through the entire building.

"Harley!"

It was not a human's voice.

With a start I scurried up to my feet, lurching over myself when a wickedly sharp, abrupt pain erupted in eight different parts of my body. Tears came instantly and I hiccupped over relentless sobs while I yanked the glass from my skin.

Two jagged pieces came from my forearm, three more from my right palm. I could not see clearly as I scratched another blood tainted shard from my stomach, and the last two from my left shoulder.

Stumbling through the house I scrubbed my eyes. It was empty.

The halls, the rooms. Each were barren and oddly horrifying. Paint peeled from the walls, wood chips and dust doused the creaky, caving floorboards.

I staggered through the halls, pressing my weight into the wobbly walls, leaving a streak of blood along the dead paint. Reaching out, I gripped the wide handrail, taking the long, rickety winding stairs down to the second floor.

Light was coming from one of the doors, sucking in a determined breath I gave it my all, flying down the narrow corridor I grasped the oval doorknob.

Giving it a hard twist, the door did not open, but a familiar _cachink _came from the defiant lock. I tripped backward, charging forward to kick the door wide. It slammed into the wall, the handle going through.

The walls inside were blood red, the wood near-black. I dare not step inside, carefully scrutinizing every nook and cranny before I so much as leaned in.

There was a huge bed, neatly covered by a grey-blue, fur duvet. The pillows were plump and rectangular, deep black in colour. There was no cage in the room, no sign that Gabriel kept any pets.

A very big, very elegant painting hung above the bed. It was a photo of Gabriel, his arm around the woman I had seen in a dream. Her shiny strawberry blonde hair curved over his forearm, she looked as if she was laughing.

Gabriel sported a wide smile, but he was not looking at the camera, instead his black eyes were steady on her.

I could see two other bodies beside them, evidently a man and a woman, but their faces had been blacked out, as if someone had cast fire to it.

That's when I saw them.

Snakes wove through the long fur bedding, their bodies intermingling, their voices making my head reel. And in the center of all the twisted browns, greys, greens and blacks was Isabel.

Isabel's white eyes locked onto me, she was coiled in a heap in the center of the bed, she hissed wrathfully opening her mouth wide and baring extensive clear fangs.

Her yellow body was bigger than depicted in the drawing Gabriel had made. Her head was larger too, her black forked tongue flicking out, tasting me.

My body demanded that I run, but my feet would not obey. She slithered towards me, belting out a screeching snarl before she lunged. I screamed, closing my eyes tightly.

I waited for her to wrap around me, to squash me once and for all, to devour me fully. But…nothing happened.

Peeking I saw Stalon, his hand wrapped around her throat, Isabel's teeth sunk deep in his thick forearm. Growling he broke her hold on him. Seizing her fat head and crushing it between his palms.

I winced throwing my hands up, to feel the hot splatter of blood on my palms. Before I could react, however, Stalon had snatched my arm, I yelped at the strength in his grip when he began to haul me through the house.

His fingers were sticky and stiff, his nails sinking deeply into my skin. It was difficult to keep his pace, it seemed he was always two or three steps ahead of me. Stalon's face was as impassive as a brick, he did not say a word to me.

"Wh-what about Rachel?" My voice was frantic, a squeaky stammer that I struggled to keep audible.

Stalon grunted, "She's already gone."

My eyes widened. She…she left me here? How could she just _leave me here_? I wanted to be angry, but I was too scared. My stomach knotted tightly, hot bubbles burning the insides and making me gag.

"I scared her off." He murmured. I wasn't listening.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Sorry I haven't updated in a crazy long time, I've been absorbed in other workings, but I hope the...um, intensity of the chapter clears up my name ;P

~Selene

* * *

Two weeks had passed since Rachel and I went "egging," and neither Stalon nor Gabriel showed up at school since.

Rachel.

What a useless waste of skin she was. Yet, despite my anger she still spoke to me as if she hadn't left me in the dark, way the hell out of town. But, I guess it was my fault. I wanted to find out more about Gabriel, and if it hadn't been for Stalon it would have cost me greatly.

But his house – as big as the damn thing is – was completely empty. Everything but that one room was totally vacant, like a ghost was living there.

And the feeling. The feeling! My body still stung with the death that radiated from that house. I didn't think Gabriel was feeding in town, but he was certainly bringing his victims back here.

I shuddered, unlocking the front door and holding it wide so Jack could run out. He darted around the lawn wildly, chasing his tail and rolling over the grass.

Tongue hanging out he looked at me with large blue eyes, reading me a moment. I never forgot the depth of Jack's eyes, it was like he didn't just look at you, he looked _into_ you. With those massive, round ice blue doe eyes.

With a grunt he jumped up, padding towards a tree to lift his leg and do his business before hurrying back inside. I patted his head, poured his kibble and water, getting the leftover lasagne Maria had made two nights ago and shoving it into the microwave for Bridgette and Elliot.

Jack followed me into the living room, leaping up onto the couch to curl in a tight ball where Dad usually sat. I picked at the thick beige bandages beneath the long sleeves of my sweater.

I pictured the glass in my head, the window shattering beneath my weight as I crashed onto the floor.

My arms began to ache with the memory, my shoulder throbbing against the gauze I'd taped there. I looked at the Superman band-aids on my palms and spread my fingers over the black fabric of my sweatshirt, where, underneath lay another layer of gauze.

Jack whimpered, pulling me back to the here and now. Gazing over I saw the blinking green light of the answering machine and plucked the phone out of the cradle.

"Harley, I know you're in school." It was Cheyenne, she sounded tired, as if she'd been crying for a long while. "Something's happened in the pack. I'm not sure if Stalon's going to want to talk about it," She exhaled gruffly. "But he won't – he won't speak to me, so…please just, try getting through to him. Good luck, bye."

I frowned. The pack? I thought a moment, curling a well teased red hair around my index finger and sighing. The pack of wolves she'd meant, actual wolves.

Clenching and unclenching my free hand I deleted the message and placed the phone quickly back into the receiver. "Jackie I'm going out." I intoned quietly, watching his brown and white muzzle pop over the back of the red couch. Jack's tongue flicked out at me while he whimpered.

"I won't be long." I promised, slipping out the kitchen door and racing around the side of the house and into the trees. I heard groaning before I came to the clearing, there I found a rigid, sweaty Stalon.

He was sitting in the long grass, his skin burned to a warm tan. His shoulders juddered restlessly, the muscle in his back flexing more and more as he rocked back and forth.

Around him were the other wolves, they eyed me nervously, whining as they pressed their faces into his skin. A pair of dramatic emerald eyes locked with mine, the grey wolf's ears twitching as I crept closer. His muzzle was buried in Stalon's white hair, his mouth opening and closing as if he was trying to groom him.

"Hey." I whispered, Stalon didn't so much as send me a glance. Extending my arm I touched his shoulder, jumping when he jerked away from me.

In the instant that he moved I saw what lay in his lap. It was another wolf, it's blue eyes enlarged, stretched open in this kind of horrific shock. It's mouth hung wide, a lengthy pink tongue lolling out the side.

Then I saw the knots of fur around it's throat, the huge gouges there made my stomach lurch. The wolf's throat looked as if it'd been torn right out, and blood had spilt and dried on both of Stalon's legs.

I gasped, and Stalon growled, clutching the wolf to him. "Wh-what, um, what happened?" I forced the words, choking on them as they crossed over my tongue ring.

"Gabriel." Stalon's voice was brittle, as if he hadn't breathed a word in days. "It's my fault it happened, I just…I didn't get here in time. He's dead because of me."

I lowered myself to the grass, crawling up behind him to coil my arms firmly around his shoulders, hiding my face in Stalon's back. His flesh seared mine, he smelt of wild days, days spent covered in dirt and decay. The smell clung to my nose hairs, seeming to burn them away.

He leaned against me, tossing his head back against mine. "Nothing good comes from being me." He hissed furiously. "Nothing."

Shaking my head I kissed his shoulder blade, "That isn't true." Stalon barked a dry laugh, grunting under his breath as he shrugged out of my grasp.

His breathing was raspy. "I don't want your sympathy Harley. I know you're here because my Mother told you to be. Just leave me alone."

I winced. Was it wrong for me to want to hit him for that? Sucking in a deep breath I coiled my arms around him again, pulling my fingers through his hair. "I'm here because I want to be." I said against his ear, closing my eyes tightly. "And because...it's my fault."

Stalon stiffened. I probably wouldn't have noticed the motion if my arms weren't around him. Shaking my head, I swallowed back tears as I pressed my face into his skin. "If I hadn't gone up there with Rachel..." I sighed, "I should have left him alone."

He didn't respond. Deep down, I was certain he knew I was right. If I had just...left the feud to Stalon, Isabel would still be alive. Stalon's brother would have still been alive.

"I'm sorry!" My voice cracked, ragged breaths ripping up my throat. My shoulders grazed my earlobes, followed by the big, annoying sobs that seemed to resound around me. "I-I shouldn't have meddled...everything would have been f-f-fine."

Stalon's arm came up, his hand swallowing both of mine completely. His claws pressed into my Band-Aids but I was too distracted to care. "Shh..." He breathed, squeezing my hands. "No Harley, I would have had to get to her eventually. I just should have anticipated this – so much has gone on and I...no matter how hard I try I can't keep up with it."

Holding my breath, I squeezed my eyes shut. This wasn't about me, I'd ruined everything, sure – but this wouldn't be the first time. I never should've walked in on Maria and Dad...I could've stayed in my room but I didn't. I could forgive Bridge, but I won't.

"We'll fix it." I snuffled, "One piece at a time. Starting with your mom." Stalon immediately growled, the sound so animal it made me lurch away for a moment. "You know you're going to have to...make things better. She needs you."

Stalon released my hands, slumping over the body in his lap, his body convulsing. I forced myself to stay, watching the bones of his spine crackle and bend outwards, his muscles twisting and knotting.

"I know _how_ to fix it Harley." I froze when Stalon got to his feet, leaving the corpse of his wolf on the ground. His hair fell in his face, and when Stalon looked at me, I knew he had finally snapped. "You want to own the pack, you take out the alpha."

"Are you insane?" I shouted, my voice cracking on the trees as I jumped to my feet. Even Stalon's pack seemed to sense what he was plotting, a series of whimpers and yowls rising in the group. "You can't kill him!"

Stalon threw his hands up, whipping around to loom over me. This wasn't my boyfriend, my Stalon. This was all wolf.

"Why?" He demanded, his words making me recoil and stagger back over myself. "_Why can't I_?" Stalon spat, his pupils dilating, his words becoming distorted, ugly black claws snapped out from his juddering hands. "He tried to _kill me_ – he nearly succeeded!"

Stalon stomped towards me, driving me back even further. "Do not fight me on this, you don't want to be my enemy Harley." His shoulders popped outwards his body beginning to make a shift.

"Y-y-you don't know what you're saying." I stuttered, true fear rising up in my stomach, my skin began to crawl over my body and I wanted to run. Forcing myself towards him, I put my hands out, Stalon fell over himself, claws in his snowy white hair, something that was both a roar and a moan choking from his lips.

"You don't hurt people Stalon." I whispered, he laughed a rough, maniacal laugh that made me shiver. "This isn't you, I know it isn't." I couldn't make myself tougher, I wanted to pretend I was speaking to one of the Twine brother's or even Maria, but I couldn't.

This was Stalon, Stalon who meant everything to me.

And now he wanted to kill his Father.

"Stalon." I murmured, putting my fingers through his hair. "You've gatta calm down." I thought of Cheyenne, of all the shiny pink scars on her body. Scratches and bites from a child who was tortured. "I'm not going to let you do this."

Stalon grunted, "You can't stop me Harley."

I called Dad as soon as I got home, praying he would answer. He didn't. Typical. I left two messages before I heard the familiar engine of Maria's Beetle in the driveway.

A part of me made me stop at the front door. Am I truly this desperate?

The image of Stalon, the way he had turned, the look on his face...not the pain and then splitting release I usually saw. This was fear. Stalon liked changing, he liked giving in, the fear on his face terrified me so much it made it difficult to breathe.

Yes. I am that desperate.

Yanking the front door open I charged at Maria, gripping her shoulders frantically. "I need you to take me to Stalon's right now!" I hoped that the threat of tears in my voice would make it easier to break her down. It didn't.

Maria jostled me out of the way, making for the front door while babbling to herself. I gawked at her, was she truly so unfeeling? In an instant, I knew how to make her cave, it would leave a sour taste in my mouth for the rest of my life, but I needed to get to Stalon before he got to Beck.

"Please," I rasped, fighting with my tongue to form the word. "_Mom_!" It was a strangled cry, the best lie I've ever mustered, Maria froze in the doorway and I knew I had won.

She spun round, looking at me wide-eyed. My words went deep, however untrue they were, all I needed was for her to believe them. Maria stuttered, dropping her bags on the front step as she hurried towards me, wheeling around the front of the car. I smirked, climbing in beside her.

Maria's voice cracked when she spoke, "What's wrong? Is he okay?" Her hands grasped the wheel hysterically as she drove. I pressed against the passenger window, eyeing the trees with a vigilance I never knew I had.

I held off my snort, needing my act to be convincing so she would keep driving. Maria didn't care about Stalon, or me for that matter, she only cared about her status in my family, what she meant to my Father. I'd been the stone wall between them forever, now she saw a crack and was pawing desperately at it.

Though, I had absolutely no intentions of giving her the satisfaction of actually coming through, I just needed her to _think_ that.

We couldn't get to Stalon's fast enough, I could already hear shouting when I stepped out of the car. Maria grabbed my arm and I almost wanted to scream just because she was touching me, my flesh felt tainted now, dirtied. "Do you want me to come with you?" She questioned, gazing around me to the house, where the shouting was growing louder.

I groaned through my teeth, leaning away from the car to rip my arm from between her hands, wincing when I felt my cuts reopening. "No I don't want you to come with me – I want you to _leave_!" I hissed, slamming the passenger door to her absolute horror. As I trooped away I snapped, "And for the record, you'll never be my mother."

When I was certain Maria was in too deep, crying into her steering wheel again, I made a solid sprint around the side of the house. My heart had never beat so hard or so damned fast in my life, it made my lungs ache and my skin ripple.

As I whirled around the side of the house, slipping on the slick grass and scrabbling to gain my balance again, I was met by Beck's yelling and Stalon's...snarling?

Between them, Cheyenne blocked her son's advances. Why was Stalon still a wolf? Beck's outrage turned to sheer humour when his senses found me, his eyes squeezing tightly as he threw his head back and gave out this echoing guffaw.

Cheyenne's face, shimmering with panicked sweat, became hopeful when she turned and saw me running towards them. I thrust myself at Stalon's massive shoulder, hopping to come in contact with the harsh outer coat of his ruff. Instead I thudded heavily on the grass, the breath knocked clean from my body as pain shook through my torso. My tongue ring grated into the roof of my mouth, causing me to wheeze over every inhale.

Stalon's eyes found me, slammed on the ground, and something that could have been concern or an apology flashed across his eyes. Though these emotions were quickly overpowered by his instincts, as soon as Cheyenne moved to gather me Stalon launched himself at Beck.

The two tumbled to the ground with a ground shaking boom, Cheyenne hurried to get me to my feet, shoving me backwards towards the desolate, lonely birdbath. "Wait!" The word was strangled, but she managed to hear it.

"It's happened before," Was all Cheyenne said before lunging into the fray. Stalon was all teeth and claws and muscle and fur, I knew he would kill Beck, that he already was. So I was stunned to hear Beck's piercing laughter between the splatter of saliva and snapping jaws.

Something died in me when I heard Stalon's screech of a yelp, his monstrous body flailing back on the lawn. I called for him, but it was like screaming at a deaf person.

Beck rose to his feet, I stared at the slashes – wounds that would instantly kill a human – sewing together even faster than Stalon's did. Blood soaked his shredded teal blouse, the grey trousers he wore sullied by a gaping laceration in his thigh that seemed to smile at me.

I watched his fingers snap and bend, elongating disturbingly, Beck's feature's appearing to draw together to create the horrific mask of a monster I'd never seen in my life. When he smiled again, it was to flash a row off bloodied jaws. Yet, I had this terrible notion, that what I was seeing was nowhere near to the complete shift. Was Beck bluffing?

Stalon came to his feet, long ears slicking back against his thick brindle neck. Once Cheyenne came within grabbing range, Beck made his move, snatching her by the throat, and though she didn't move, the fear was clear on her face.

Both Stalon and I tensed, I could see his great mass of a body crouch. Beck snorted, "You won't get here in time, don't be stupid." His voice was low, demonic.

Then he turned his head, faced his wife and appraised her thoughtfully, eyes lingering on her abdomen when realization struck him. "Oh, yes, I forgot." With a flick of his wrist, Cheyenne was spiralling for the doors to her giant greenhouse.

Beck pointed a hideously long finger at me, my heart dropping to my toes. Stalon snapped his teeth together defensively, I didn't dare to look away from his Father, but I could see Stalon angle himself toward me.

Therians were supposed to be faster than Lycans. I just had to trust that Stalon would get to me first.

"Harley." Beck rumbled, making my breath hitch and sweat pool under my arms. "I would imagine you're wishing you'd taken my advice at this point, hmmm? I told you he was a mistake, and now he's going to have you killed. Pity."

I held my breath, pivoting on the balls of my feet and dashing headlong for Stalon. The earth seemed to disappear from beneath me in the seconds it took him to barrel towards me, I focused only on how the ground shook – the only indication of Stalon's movements – and dove for him.

Stalon leapt over me, taking Beck to the lawn when he landed, tearing at flesh and ripping his claws through his clothes. "No!" I screamed, watching his Father recover unnaturally, flipping the pair to pry Stalon's jaw apart.

I saw flesh tear, blood staining the light hair of Stalon's muzzle, but he tore from Beck before any more damage could be done to his mouth. Stalon whistled low in his throat, forcing himself out of Beck's reach before stumbling to the grass to paw at the gaping slash that extended his wolfish smile.

"Stop!" I plead, reeling around to wind my arms around Stalon's muzzle, the blood seeping from his mouth dribbling on my clothes. "Please, please stop!" I begged Beck, knotting my fingers in Stalon's ruff, feeling the soft, downy hairs that tickled my fingertips.

He chuckled, shaking his head at me in a manner that openly displayed his disappointment, though I could see the Lycan fading. Cheyenne shrieked, bustling by him to drop in front of Stalon and I. Her hands desperately fluttered about the jagged slice that would, if Stalon had been human, have made a perfectly uneven line from the corner of his mouth deep into his cheek, almost reaching the hinges of his jaw.

Stalon whimpered, his eyes imploring me, but I could think of no way to make the pain cease. "Why isn't he healing?" I demanded, "Why is it taking so long?" I half-shouted, half-cried and Cheyenne's bright eyes found mine anxiously.

"It is," She whispered, holding off tears of her own, her voice shaken with wrath. "His body needs to adapt to this new change."

I made a face at her, angry that she couldn't do anything for him. "This isn't new!" I screeched, Stalon whimpering below me. Cheyenne gazed at me hesitantly, miserably, as if her son was dead in my arms.

But he wasn't and she wasn't doing anything for him! Why the fuck isn't anyone helping him?

Beck's chortle made my rage grow, I would have charged at him myself, if I didn't know better. "Oh but it is," He cooed. "You can't help him Harley, because nothing for human's will work. You can't slip him Munkshood, because not only is he immune to it, but he won't let you." Beck's haughty voice only made my blood boil hotter, made my head spin wildly.

"What you see before you, now, is an _animal_." He almost giggled at the mention of the word, continuing arrogantly. "Stalon just made his last shift. He won't be _yours_ again, not ever."

I didn't realize I was crying until a hoarse sob made me jerk forwards. Then suddenly Stalon was wriggling, fighting me and Cheyenne, clawing at the grass until it came in ugly muddy tufts beneath him. He struggled right out of my arms, padding quickly away from us too big and too strong to contain. I didn't understand his outburst until Beck snatched a handful of Cheyenne's dark hair.

Her face scrunched with pain, Stalon, a few meters away, growled out then whined from the agony of such a simple action. He brought a paw to his face as if he couldn't understand why he was hurting so badly.

I saw it now, whatever traces of human that had been battling for dominance, had lost. Cheyenne screamed softly, not a sound that excelled past her lips, Beck yanked her head back.

"Savour these moments darling, you know he won't last the night." Beck released her roughly, Cheyenne's matted hair falling ungracefully in her face. I couldn't even begin to think of a thing to say, I was just so uselessly angry.

As Beck sauntered back to the house, prodding the nasty abrasions covering his body he sang, "Full moon tonight!"

I scrambled up, making a path for my wolf, but he looked at me and growled, ears hanging as another whimper rattled his frame. Stalon looked at me affectionately, I wanted to think he knew me, knew every part of me, but he didn't. He liked the way I _smelled_.

A howl erupted deep within the trees, so soft, that if I hadn't spent a night with him, I wouldn't have heard it. Stalon's ears twisted upwards, head rising to snuff the air. He glared wickedly at the house, and I knew he was not finished here.

Then I was forced to stand perfectly still, and watch my boyfriend vanish into the shadow of the forest, never to be seen again.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Cheyenne drove me home, she sat in the SUV with me for an hour, rubbing my back as we both sobbed.

When I entered the house, I went straight for the stairs, everything else was trivial, unimportant, _stupid_. Maria said nothing to me, Eliot and Bridgette made their attempts to get under my skin, but I felt nothing, heard nothing.

I lay in bed, silent, listening to the sounds outside. I'd never wanted to hear a wolf's howl so desperately in my life. But the more I waited to hear it, the less I truthfully thought I could handle it if I did.

Dad came home and yelled at me for my behaviour. He told me how immature my behaviour is, how the resentment between Maria and I needed to end, that we were beginning to effect Bridgette and Elliot and he would no longer stand for it.

However; was too exhausted to argue and somehow managed to sleep through half of the debate.

For the remainder of the week I pretended to have menstrual cramps that were so awful they left me bedridden. Surprisingly, Rachel called, only to say that I sucked for abandoning her at school with Gabriel. She also went on to explain that we'd been given an assignment in science, and I was – unfortunately – her partner, therefore appointed the duties of coming up with said project and constructing it.

I then proceeded to tell Rachel to fuck off.

I knew Stalon was okay, because Cheyenne called me to update whenever she could. Apparently, he'd come to the house a few times during the week, mostly to stalk Beck whenever he left the house. Cheyenne said he would wait for the perfect opportunity before charging enemy lines. That and, the killings had increased around the town. Stalon had become so bold he'd entered city boundaries and plucked off a couple dogs in the _day_.

He'd gone so far that he even mauled a unit of hunters. Though, I suppose they may have had it coming, they knew he was out there, and they'd been stupid enough to go into the forest at night. It was common sense really – people can't see at night, Stalon can see in the dark like it's clear as day.

When I gathered up a little courage, I snuck out, hoping to get even the slightest glimpse of The Thing.

The closest I'd come to him was late one Sunday evening, I'd seen him in the trees, though he was very, very good at hiding himself, I'd spent three weeks scanning our property for any odd looking object.

He kind of looked at me for a minute, then retreated to where it was shadier, there all I could see was the eerie glow of his white eyes. I had to tiptoe back inside and swipe a clump of nasty raw chicken and bribe him into coming out of the trees.

Stalon hesitated at the tree line, and only became even more suspicious when I offered him food. Once he smelt the air though, he came padding right out into the yard.

I watched him snap the chicken out of my hand and swallow it whole. Then, of course, I cried my eyes out when he pushed his massive wet nose into my chest and groaned. For a moment, I wondered if he remembered me, if even just a sliver of _my_ Stalon existed still. But when I put my hands out to touch him, he darted away so fast I fell back onto my behind. I didn't see Stalon again for ten days after that.

The first back at school was a nightmare, I spent my lunches bawling in the bathroom, then sat through art and English with Gabriel. He was so smug, so fucking smug, I thought about punching him square in the face just for glancing at me.

Rachel pushed me around, which was to be expected. She went out of her way to trip me when she could, or knock my books out of my hands, or even crack jokes about my hair when she was with a group of people.

I said nothing, because it meant nothing. But I was careful with Gabriel, I couldn't make him angry, God knows what a vampire would do to me now that Stalon was off eating live animals and peeing on trees. Though I kept his necklace on, even purchased a shorter chain to keep it where everyone could see it. It killed me though, I wanted to tear it off and smash the crystal to bits.

So much of Stalon was everywhere, I couldn't even open my closet because his sweaters, his t-shirts, his pants were there. I dreaded showering because it felt as if I was washing his finger prints off of me wherever I scrubbed.

I'd even cleared out a drawer in my dresser to pack away his clothes. I needed them to keep his smell – like trees and grass and wild – I just couldn't risk losing that part of him too.

I ate breakfast this morning, survived through a full school day without smudging my makeup, fed Jack and the twins when I came home, and went to bed early.

The nightmares I had were always the same, always running – from something, to something. The running never stopped. The thing was, I was always too slow...

Misshapen trees loomed overhead, their arms locked together in an inescapable embrace, forcing all light out. I held my arms up in front of me, tumbling over my own feet, scrambling towards the gleam of white ahead of me.

Though every time I seemed to reach the light, the opening that would lead me out of this shadow, it got further and further away. My knees buckled, which made my thighs cramp. My chest also ached where my lungs were, as if my ribcage was slowly compressing them to empty, dry sacks grating against each other.

Stumbling over roots, I swore, anxiously trying to claw my way to my feet to keep going. As I fell, I caught the briefest glimpse of what was behind me.

Gleaming white eyes, eyes that I thought belonged to Stalon, until I noticed the elongated fingers and jagged teeth. The Lycan's fur was oily looking and slick, still somehow managing to shimmer in the darkness.

Ears lengthy, ugly and thin, the monster's muzzle stubby looking with mere hints of human features. It's cheek bones were high and very prominent, greasy black lips curling upwards to ooze a thick spool of saliva.

It walked on two legs, though hunched over itself, almost dragging it's hideously long claws along the mossy ground. I caught the shine off of it's teeth, saw the curl of white vapour seep from it's mouth as it snarled.

My skin threatened to jump right off of me, launching me forward and back into a painfully slow sprint. Breaths that were already evading me, came in hoarse, snivelling sobs. Squeezing my eyes shut I focused on the pound of my feet, crunching over the dead leaves and spongy grass.

But my frantic footsteps did nothing to silence the echoing boom of the creature behind me. The scrape of abnormal hands on the forest floor, followed by it's grunts and growls.

I screamed when it's fingers swept the earth out from under me. I had my eyes open long enough to see the mess of black I spiralled toward.

Then, I was rolling out into the white light I'd seen, whacking my forehead off something hard and sharp. With a groan I struggled into a sitting position, dizzily gazing around my new surroundings, incredibly happy to see where I now sat.

Hands set on my shoulders and I hurried to slap them away, when a terribly familiar chuckle made my heart lunge clean into my nasal cavity. Stalon crouched in front of me, 100% human, his eyes tapered with concern as he touched my legs.

Only now did I see the gaping wound in my calf. "Ow!" The sound of my voice seemed to startle us both, Stalon grimaced slightly, leaning over to bite the brown fabric of my pyjama pants. I made a face, watching him tear the material right from my leg, Stalon winding it around the disgusting gash so tight I actually whimpered.

"Sorry," He murmured, I'd never been so happy to hear his timid voice. "You have to keep pressure on it." He explained leaning up again to look at me and shake his head, I yelped in earnest when he pressed his fingers into my forehead.

Stalon stared fanatically at the blood on his fingers, eyes flickering over to the boulder that lay beside me. "You're a mess Harls." He smiled, helping me to my feet.

I hobbled a bit at first, turning to gaze back out into the shadow of the trees. The Lycan lingered at the edges, pacing back and forth. It was waiting for me! Pressing myself into Stalon's bare chest I closed my eyes and sniffled, he was back and he was perfect.

Wait a minute. I leaned away for a second, lifting my hand to run my palm over the infinite planes of his torso. Though Stalon closed his eyes and sighed, my stomach dropped. "Where's your scar?" It was almost a demand, and when I glared up at him Stalon balked at me.

His great hands lifted, pinning my palm to where it lay on his chest. "It's a dream Harley," Stalon shook his head at me, "I'm not real."

It hurt so much when he said that I almost fell over. My eyes stung, my nose tingled and I hiccupped so hard it lifted me up onto my tiptoes. "Why'd you do it?" I choked, shaking my head at him furiously, "You couldn't just listen to me could you? Just this once."

Stalon's lip twitched, fingers releasing mine to cut back through his hair. He almost looked..._irritated_ with me. Rolling my tongue ring along the roof of my mouth I stepped back to look at him, really look at him.

The long, puckering scar on his chest was missing, this was strange to me. And the way his eyes looked, not like they loved me. He couldn't say it aloud – something I was trying to accept – but he always tried to tell me in a different way.

Stalon's eyes roamed my expression, he forced a smile, closing the gap between us. His big arms tied strongly around my waist, he inclined himself towards me slightly to snuff my hair. "I miss you, Harley." Stalon sighed, smiling against my forehead.

Moving my hands over his arms, I pressed my short, bitten nail into the crease of his elbow. The skin there was soft and dipped responsively to my finger.

In reality Stalon's skin was rough there, because he always put his needles in this spot. It wasn't something I ignored, but something I tolerated. Here though, it was like he'd become a totally different person, one without imperfections.

He drew away from me abruptly, fingering the crystal on my neck thoughtfully. Stalon's eyes narrowed pensively, my necklace felt unbearably heavy when he touched it. A grin captured his mouth again and his hand swallowed mine whole. "Come." He said excitedly.

I would have followed – I'd follow Stalon to the end of the planet and back if I wasn't so lazy. Although what I saw ahead of us, waiting in the center of the clearing frightened me

My eyes probed the door, so very similar to my own bedroom door it was disconcerting. My heart fell, fell and fell until it thumped down onto my toes. My chest felt hollow and sore, I squinted at him, standing beside my door, winking at me. "Come here Harley," Stalon curled his index finger at me, his expression one of desire. "I want to _show_ you something."

Eyes fixing on the ring on his hand I almost ran right back into the trees. I didn't care if I was eaten by a pack of Lycans, there was no way in hell I was staying here with him! But I couldn't let him know that.

Swallowing back my panic, I sauntered forward to place a hand on the doorknob that zapped me with a fiery burst of ice. My fingers slipped from the handle at Stalon's sharp intake of breath, when I gazed up at him, I saw sheer outrage on his face.

"Do you l-love me?" I stammered, flicking my head to the side to remove a clump of red hair. Stalon's eyes were impatient but he somehow managed to muster a relatively believable smile.

"Of course I love you Harls, why would you ask me that?" He shook his head and bared his teeth in a gleaming grin, as if to say I was being ridiculous.

In that instant, I had him.

Holding my breath, I made myself go on, though my fingers had long since become numb, and my head had grown even woozier. "K-k-kiss me." I murmured, tilting my head back in preparation. I kind of hoped he wouldn't, I'd rather be crushed and eaten by Isabel than have his mouth on mine.

Stalon rolled his eyes and knotted his fingers roughly in my hair before leaning down to cover his mouth with mine. I held my eyes tightly shut, wanting to scream as loud as I possibly could. The minute he pulled me up against him I knew I'd won, that I'd found out just how to beat him.

Stalon's tongue pushed it's way into my mouth, and the sheer sense of darkness rendered me motionless. It passed through me like a ghost, wave after relentless wave of fear and death. For a moment, I couldn't kiss him back, I wouldn't kiss him back. This made him stop – I couldn't have that, not when I was so close.

Taking Stalon's big hand in mine, I brought it to my chest and relived every nightmare I'd ever had. Every part of my body shrieked in disgust, making me shiver violently. It took everything I had to remain where I was, even for just a few my seconds.

I wanted to throw up, I wanted to die, I prayed that at any moment Isabel would jump up and swallow me whole. Peeking my eyes open for just a moment, I speedily scanned the trees, my stomach lurching when I saw the creature there.

This was no Lycan, no monster. I met it's glowing eyes, one of blue the other brown...

As Stalon's hands wandered, I followed them, fingers fixing around the ring on his hand until I held it in my own. Wrenching back, I spat in Gabriel's face, whirling on my heels to dart for the safety of the trees.

His roar made me stagger. I'd never been more afraid in my life, than in the seconds it took to reach the shadows. It took me even longer because my leg was still injured, but I clutched Gabriel's ring in my fist and ploughed onward until I'd collided with the gigantic form of my wolf.

Stalon snapped at my clothes, jerking me up and onto his back, I closed my eyes and twisted my fingers in his ruff, burying my face into his coat. I forgot about Gabriel, though he could have been chasing after us, but nothing else mattered because I was holding _him_ again.

I was vaguely aware of Stalon's movement, the whistling current of wind around us and, the ear-splitting crack of trees as he charged through them.

Stalon didn't stop running until I woke in my bed. Staring up at the ceiling above me, the sheets were spread everywhere on the mattress but on me. Tilting my head a fraction, I opened my hand to stare at the ring in my palm, a shiny ruby ring.

Then, screaming, I bolted out of my bedroom and down the hall. Jack leapt to attention, barking and growling as loud as he could, waking my Father and Maria. By the time they were both banging on the bathroom door, I was in the shower scouring every inch of my body until my skin was red and threatened to bleed.

I spent a good three hours there, washing my hair over and over again. Even when I came out, the ceiling and walls sobbing wet with the room choked by a smog of steam, I felt filthy. I didn't stop though, brushing my teeth until the bristles began to hurt my gums.

Wrapped in my towel, I sat in the corner up against the cabinets and turned the ring in my hands. "I'm fine!" I shouted, hearing the pounds on the door dying away. "I had a bad dream," I added. "A very, very bad dream."

Stalon would be proud of me, angry at first, but certainly proud. I would try to find him tomorrow night, wolf or not, he was still a Therianthrope – he would know what it meant.

I can't believe Gabriel tried to trick me by using Stalon again. He was missing very key points, which proved Gabriel didn't know Stalon well at all. Or he was becoming desperate...

Hmm...what did he want? Why was he trying so hard to get to me? Didn't Gabriel realize that practically any other girl in our school already had their panties dropped for him? I mean, let's get serious!

When I came out of the bathroom, Dad held my face between his hands, turning me this way and that. Is hair was a mangled assortment atop his head, and the way he squinted at me made me wonder if he had finally cracked.

"You had...a bad dream?" Maria murmured, looking over his shoulder at me quizzically. I shrugged, pushing his hands away, they would never understand. I could make up a silly story to tell just to get them to believe me, but it would be pointless.

Sniffling I stumbled between them, making my way down the stairs to the kitchen. Maria and my Dad hovered around me for what seemed forever, staring narrowly while I drank a cold glass of water. He waited while I swallowed every gulp as if he expected my head to explode shortly after. Then again, I wouldn't mind if it did.

I couldn't get the taste of Gabriel off my tongue, it was deliciously intoxicating and sickening at the same time. My stomach clenched in on itself, for a moment I wondered if all the water I'd drank planned to come back up the same way. My lips were numb with a burning sensation that I'd never felt before. It was almost sensual. Or, at least, it would have been, had I not known better.

There was death on my mouth.

Even if it had only been a dream, it was more real than any I'd ever had. I needed to see Stalon, the real Stalon, he needed to know even if he couldn't understand. He was human in there somewhere, I just knew he was. But I couldn't go to him now, not while there was a chance I met up with something else.

"I'm tired," I sighed, kissing my Father on the cheek before excusing myself from the kitchen. Both he and Maria stalked me to my bedroom, then stood outside my door discussing my sanity for a good fifteen minutes.

My bed seemed to be a forbidden place to me, one where all my fears lurked, awaiting the next moment where they could grasp me in their clutches. Instead, I paced around the room to my window, where the light of the night poured in. My skin the colour of snow, now doused in the moonlight as I squinted about the shadows.

I glared around the base of the trees until my eyes were sore from not blinking. Rubbing my hands over my face, inhaling deeply, I tried to rid myself of the haunting sense Gabriel left all over my body. My breath caught and I gawped down at the beast in the night.

He was there. Skin pale as the moonlight that spilt through my windows, eyes as black as ink leading deeper into a hypnotic void. Gabriel bared lengthy fangs at me, his face warping to a gargoyle's, coffee black eyes burning red.

_Let me in!_

His voice was so loud I grasped anxiously at my curtains, feeling my entire body jerk. My heart shook within my chest, stumbling violently as I rasped for breath.

_Let me in!_

Falling to the floor with a crashing bang I held my hands over my ears. "Stop it! Stop it!" I shrieked, though to my ears it was mere whimpers that barely managed to fully escape my lips.

Writhing on the floor, I gripped my necklace, the silver around my throat. I curled in a tight ball, holding the crystal wolf in my fist until it began to cut into my skin.

My bedroom shook with his demands, from wall to wall Gabriel's voice seemed to echo and re-echo, causing my things to fall from their shelves, my mirror to shatter.

Distantly, I heard the cry of a wolf, clinging to it desperately until I was blind with tears and false hope. Gabriel's torment went on deep into the night, until the sun took the sky and the whole house it seemed, slammed back into place.

I laid there in the surreal silence, listening to the erratic thud of the wild thing in my chest, and Jack's faint whimpering outside my door. My whole body heaved, lurching up and off my bedroom floor until I came to a very unstable sitting position.

From the crown of my head to the soft skin of my toes, I felt violated. Even just thinking of Gabriel, his haunting red eyes and hideous fangs, made me disgusted with myself.

My innards felt twisted, mangled around one another in this disturbing assortment. I felt..._dirty_. And as I slowly brought myself to my feet, stumbling towards my bed in a stupor, I felt dead.

As if the simple press of his mouth on mine – even in a dream – had killed me. My every appendage right down to my fingernails, had become numb and tingly, decayed flesh just barely holding on.

I slept dizzily in my bed, unravelled down to my last straw. Face marred by sticky sweat and tears, hair matted about my face, I was a corpse in a breathing body. As I swallowed my tears, I swallowed the haggard taste of murder, blood, vampire.

Even still, there, on my index finger, fixed Gabriel's ring. A ruby ring, that looked large and gaudy though felt lighter than a feather. It made me sick to my stomach to look at, made me furious with myself.

Why did I ever get involved in the first place? I'm no immortal, no Lycanthrope or Therian. I'm human, and humans are only good for one thing: getting in the way. I'd proved that point one too many times.

Gabriel was like a plague, one that only needed to touch it's victims to infect them. He scourged through my body in a relentless shroud, plunging in and out of my skin with every beat of my heart. I'd been murdered by a vampire, and lived tell the tale.

My name is Harley Tinker, and I was not expecting this.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

Wow okay, I'm an ass lol, sorry it took me FOREVER to write up this chapter. I've been all over the place with my agent so... ugh ahahah but here it is, I'll try to stay a lil more consistant cuz I'm getting a lot of ideas with this one ;) hope everyone likes this chapter so R&R please and lemme know whatchya think!

~Selene

* * *

I was wary at school, though it seemed Gabriel had gone into hiding. He wasn't around all week. This didn't bother me – not in the slightest – though it made me anxious. If he wasn't here, where was he? Biding his time maybe? Putting out a false sense of hope before ruining me?

God, I _need_ Stalon.

At lunch I sat alone, staring down at my food tray while pretending not to feel the harsh glares burning through my skin. Rachel glowered from across the room, awaiting the second where I'd gaze to her and she could give me a dirty look. I just couldn't give her the satisfaction, not today.

I wanted to cry into the soggy salad in front of me, but there were just no tears. And as I rested my face in my palms, Gabriel's ring gouged into my skin, refusing to be ignored.

There was talk of parties, different gossip stories, who slept with who, but the focus was on the killings. Killings Stalon had been committing, running around and hurting people, animals. He was unstoppable.

Still, no matter how hard I tried to see him as some kind of monster – no better than Beck or Gabriel. My mind reverted to that night at the river and I just couldn't, he was so inhuman and at the same time he was still just..._Stalon_.

Sometimes I wondered why I couldn't have just settled for his bullshit and lies. I wish I hadn't dug and dug until I hit gold, why couldn't I have just been content with my ass of a boyfriend? He'd only been lying and pushing me away to keep all this from me, but it was me who pushed back, demanding answers, and wanting – always wanting. Now look what I've done!

This whole thing is just a mess.

It was a bit of a shock, coming down the stairs after school and spotting the Piece's jet black SUV. I trudged slowly down the steps, stopping when the passenger window came down and Cheyenne faced me.

"I called your Dad," She sputtered, voice shaky and rushed. "Come with me, I think I found a way to save Stalon." I didn't need any more convincing, jerking the door open and climbing in as fast as I could.

Cheyenne drove quietly for a moment, though her eyes were pensive and bloodshot. She held her right hand to her mouth, fingers curled on her lips as she clutched at the wheel with her left.

Only now did I see the bulge that was her stomach, she wore a bulky grey and white maternity dress. I tried not to think that what she was carrying in her belly was Beck's.

It gave me an odd sense of relief that she hadn't taken Stalon's advice, though even still, I was terrified of the outcome of her decision.

I didn't realize I was staring until Cheyenne cleared her throat. Hurrying my gaze away, I focused on the buildings, cars and houses outside my window. These things soon becoming towering trees that swayed in the afternoon breeze, it howled around the SUV as we drove, whooshing in the open window and throwing my hair about.

"Don't think I didn't try." Cheyenne murmured, I glanced at her hesitantly but she went on without looking at me. "I went to the clinic and made an appointment to get it..._done_. I had to, for Stalon's sake. But...even the chance that it could be like me-"

Stomping on her sentence and hissed out, "You mean some kind of abomination for Beck to torment? That worked out great the first time." I regretted the words once I'd said them and immediately apologized, though Cheyenne with her teary eyes just waved it off.

"No, no." She sniffled, "You're right. You both are it's just...I can't do it."

We didn't speak for the rest of the ride, it wasn't until we'd entered the enormous mansion that was the Piece household that we conversed. There was a tall lady in the kitchen when we came inside.

She had a thick, shimmering black braid over her shoulder and soft, flawless russet skin that reflected the light of the room. When she faced me I couldn't smile, though she did and it was warm and sweet and exactly like Cheyenne's. Her eyes were the prettiest colour of blue and green, I could see something of Stalon in her, though I couldn't pinpoint what.

The woman instantly encircled Cheyenne with her arms, kissing her on the cheek and forehead. She came to me to do the same and I quickly retreated from her embrace, locking my gaze with hers.

"I want answers." My voice was stiff, serious, though I couldn't even begin to explain the emotions that flew threw me. I hadn't come to be comforted, I came to save my boyfriend, all I wanted was for him to be human – to be _Stalon_ again. "I need to know how to fix him."

Her eyes moved up and down my body and she faced Cheyenne when she said, "This is the girl you spoke to me about? Harley is it?" As Cheyenne nodded she turned to me again, her expression vacant, her eyes fierce.

"I am Kimi," She smiled once more, but not in a friendly way. "You cannot _fix_ him, though I'll give you the answers you seek." Cheyenne looked desperate when she clutched her sister's arm, eyes wide and hopeful. Kimi never looked away from me. "But you will be ruining everything for him."

Taking a deep breath I blinked at her, "Listen I know Stalon likes being a wolf, but I also know for a fact that he wants to be human he doesn't-"

Kimi didn't let me finish, eyes narrowing vehemently. "No. _You_ want Stalon to be human. If you were really his mate, if you really understood, you would know that this is what he _is_ – what he has always been." I flinched away from her words, they wounded me deeply but her relentlessness proceeded. "He is Therian, he's not a human being, you can't expect him to want in the same way you do."

Cheyenne took this moment to step in, though I already felt like a selfish monster. Kimi was right, he's not a person like me, he's an animal...he was _always_ an animal.

"You'll tell me how to change him back and you'll tell me now!" I shouted, making the vast kitchen close in on us. Cheyenne winced though her sister remained still and unfeeling, I was outraged by both myself and her. "I love Stalon! I love him now as he is – as a wolf so don't you dare tell me-"

Again she interrupted me, staggering me with the sound of her voice. "Good," She smiled widely, happily. "Because it is you that will need to change him."

For a while, I stood there in absolute shock while Kimi and Cheyenne went about the kitchen, smiling and laughing. I couldn't believe what had happened. It had all been a test?

Once they were sat down with their teas I snapped again, screaming my disapproval. "What the fuck is this?" I demanded, Cheyenne looking to me hysterically, rising to her feet and holding me close in an attempt to soften my rage.

I jostled out of her grip, slamming my hand on the island while hot tears formed in my eyes. Kimi didn't flinch smirking at me as though I was a child, "I can see why he chose you." She nodded slowly, her lengthy brain swaying with her soft movements. "However, there is not much I can do. I may give you the help you need Harley, but it's you who will have to bring him back."

Standing there, feeling as if my whole body was beginning to be swallowed up by all this madness. Therians, Lycanthropes, Vampires! Anymore and my head was going to burst.

Kimi lead us outside after awhile, once the sun began to set and the night bugs roamed the air. Fireflies wove in and out of the darkness beyond the edge of the backyard. The lonely birdbath stared me down, mocking me with it's false innocence.

Cheyenne stood beside Kimi, holding her sister's hand in her own while she watched me. Kimi's eyes appraised the trees, suddenly she tensed turning to me with tapered eyes. "He's there," She whispered. "But he won't come any closer to us."

I did my best to follow my gaze, but everything looked the same in there. Black shadow and emerald green, I ran the bulb of my tongue ring across the roof of my mouth in frustration. How could she see him?

Squinting around the darkness, I shivered when a breeze whispered though my hair, putting messy clumps of red into my eyes. Oddly enough, it wasn't just my hair being ruffled by the wind.

At the slightest glimpse of brindle I was sprinting into the bushels. Stalon's hulking figure grew more pronounced the closer I came to him, my lungs burning inside my chest with the adrenaline pumping beneath my skin. He stiffened in the obscurity, black lips curling upward as I enclosed him.

I skidded to an uneasy stop not ten feet from him. Stalon's eyes, the only thing that stayed the same when he changed, flickered above and around me. I couldn't believe just how hollow I felt when he shrunk back and away from me. My Stalon, my Stalon in every way.

Slowly I reached into the collar of my shirt, pulling out the necklace he'd given me. "Come on Stalon," I murmured wanting desperately for him to trust me. A small voice spoke out in the back of my head, making me wonder what on earth made me think he would trust me now when he hadn't before.

One big paw thumped in front of the other, the lengthy black claws protruding from them making my stomach tie up. His muzzle came first, covered in fine bronze hairs, then was his eyes surrounded by pale white hairs, followed by a thick neck and massive shoulders.

Stretching my hand out, I turned my wrist in the air, ignoring the old aches from tumbling through Gabriel's window. Stalon had said he'd always liked the way I smelled when he was a wolf. So if that's what I had to work with, I'd just have to work it to it's full potential.

He stuck his snout out cautiously, his flaring nostrils caught the scent with ease. It took a moment, but he eventually came close enough to snuff away at my shirt. Stalon inhaled deeply, making a noise deep in his throat that could have been a grunt or a groan.

Holding my breath I dropped my palm carefully onto his snout, dragging my fingertips over the stubbly fur of his muzzle. My eyes caught glimpse of ruffled dark hairs at the corner of his mouth, Stalon tensed guardedly and growled out a warning as I moved to assess the strange spot.

My eyes watered faintly at the jagged scar at the corner of his mouth. The terrible wound Beck had made now a permanent mark on his flesh. "Stalon," I murmured, voice shaking as I gently touched the horrid scar tissue. Moving my hand back further I dug my fingers deep into his ruff, beyond the thick coarse outer coat to the soft curls beneath.

"We can make you better." I stated, nearing his massive form and pretending not to notice how he was shrinking further and further away from me. "You have got to trust me though, just this once."

He eyed me as I withdrew, holding my hand out to him and hoping that perhaps he would take it, knowing he couldn't. Stalon began to retreat in earnest, all my hopes going with him. My anxiety nearly made me throw up, and I reached my arms out to lock my hands in his fur.

He snapped his teeth together in protest, baring his teeth furiously at me. My heart leapt in terror but I couldn't make myself move. He was bluffing. Some part of me was certain this was all a show.

"Come on!" I insisted, letting the tears overwhelm my voice, "No one ever really knows where they're going until they get there." I quoted him in my desperation, praying that something I would say would make him remember me. Remember all of me.

He looked at me sceptically, eyes darting to his mother and aunt across the yard, then back into the forest. I knew he was judging how quickly he could escape, I just didn't want to believe he would run away from me.

But he did.

My hands remained in fists where they'd been holding his ruff. Stalon, now deep in the brush gazed over his robust shoulder with glowing white eyes, he looked me up and down once then continued to barrel away.

I dropped to my knees and sobbed good and hard until Cheyenne came to gather me up.

I spent the night in the Piece household. Listening to Kimi comfort her weeping sister deep into the night. It was then that Beck showed up.

It was almost like I'd been waiting specifically for the slam of the front door. Instantaneously all went quiet, eerily quiet like I was the only person in the house. Cheyenne's crying was choked away and promptly replaced by shouting.

Beck's voice was distinct, calm, sardonic, twisted. Kimi's quiet voice seemed to ring throughout the whole house. All the while, Cheyenne, who was practically screaming seemed to have a tone no higher than a whisper.

I sat up in Stalon's bed, looking around the room half expecting him to emerge from one of the warped shadows sprawled up the walls. My fingers dug into the duvet until they'd gone numb from squeezing so hard.

Pushing the covers back I drew up the base of my sweater and the t-shirt beneath it. The long, ugly scar that positioned itself permanently on my stomach was a constant reminder that I was human. I wished I could go down there, go down there and make Beck pay for everything that he had done. _Everything_.

Instead, I swallowed back the venom that had risen in the back of my throat and kicked out of the side of the bed. Wiping at my face, my eyes I squinted through the darkness at the ring on my index finger. Gabriel's ring. **What does it do?** I wondered, **why is it so important?**

Rolling my shirt down again, I slid up to my feet and stretched. As I paced over to Stalon's bedroom window I found myself staring at the spot I'd seen him today. The place he'd abandoned me.

Maybe he didn't remember me. Maybe he just didn't want to come back. I'd understand if he didn't want to be human again, he had every reason not to be. All I wanted was for him to say goodbye. An actual goodbye.

While forcing myself away from the window something shiny caught my eye. I staggered half asleep towards the dark dresser, running my palm over the silken wood and holding back the sigh that lingered deep in my throat.

My fingertips hit the cold surface first, curling around the icy edge as I lifted the silver case out of the curtain of darkness. Taking a deep breath and combing my hair back, I paused to listen a moment longer to Cheyenne's shouting before opening the case.

My eyes flickered over the needles, over the syrupy liquid remaining in one of the four slender syringes. I smiled darkly once it all came full circle. So he'd still been using them, still been trying to poison himself. Even when he'd promised me he wouldn't.

I was outraged for all of five seconds before I decided it didn't matter. Stalon has every right to commit suicide, I shouldn't be so surprised. While gradually taking my seat on the carpet, I plucked out the last needle, turning it over in my hands and watching the bubbles that swam from end to end.

For a single, fleeting moment, I honestly considered sticking myself with the damn thing. But that wouldn't do anything for anyone, and it certainly wouldn't bring Stalon back.

Could anything bring him back?

Holding the needle tightly in my hand I stood and paced out the door, toes curling at the abrupt contact of cold hardwood. Cheyenne gasped when she saw me at the top of the stairs, speedily scrubbing her eyes clean of all tears. As if I hadn't heard everything.

Glancing between Kimi and Beck I narrowed my eyes at the man before me. Extending my arm I flattened my palm on Beck's chest, pressing the needle into his shirt.

"Do us all a favour." I murmured, drawing my hand back and walking from their collection. Entering the green house, I was hit by a wave of warmth. The flowers, each so beautiful, gawped at me as if I was an infection.

Kimi grasped my arm just as I took my first step into the icy outdoors. She looked tired and concerned. "I wouldn't risk it, Harley." She spoke firmly, eyes never leaving mine. I could feel the warmth of her skin through my sweater sleeve, it was a false comfort. "He doesn't know you anymore."

Jerking out of her grip I looked at her furiously, my gut clenching up with anger. "Says who?" I spat, glancing around her to where Beck and Cheyenne were arguing. "Him?" I glared at Kimi, hoping that maybe I could kill her with a mere glance. "Or you?"

My whole foot was numb by the time I'd reached the birdbath in the centre of the yard. Kimi's eyes never parted with me, I wondered if she thought she could bring me back into the house simply by willing it to happen.

But I wasn't afraid. At least not until I'd actually stepped into the forest, then I was absolutely terrified. The night was cool, collected, dead. There was no motion in the trees, or none that I could see. The tree branches locked out all sources of light, and the further I walked the further I lost myself.

I held my hands out in front of me, unable to make out their form as I pressed into the shadow. Leaves cracked beneath my bare feet, sharp twigs stabbed into my soles and dirt caked between my toes.

All was still, save for the pound of my heart. The blood raced in my ears, a terrifying sound. I kept waiting for something to jump out at me, anything to jump out at me, but there was nothing.

And yet, I could feel everything. Every twitch of the grass below my feet, the dry scrape whenever I snagged a tree. Any sound that swept through the trees became an instant sensation, as I gave way to every sense.

Then I saw them.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

Sorry I took forever to post this lol, I've been doing so many things all at one time. But I'll try to be steady for once lol, hopefully have the next chapter up by the end of the week HOPEFULLY! ahahah, so lemme know what y'all think!

~Selene

* * *

Eyes.

White and green. Shadows that flew through the darkness like wraiths in the night. I could not make out more than a slight silhouette, or a ghost-like breath but I knew what they were immediately.

Wolves. My wolves.

They made no noise, not a single peep. I continued to press into the brush, trying to remain calm in spite of the fear that claimed my body. The kind of fear that left you breathless and rasping, made your heart scurry into the heights of your throat, and cause your head to whirl violently.

My steps became frantic, stumbling strides that made me fall over myself repeatedly. Each time I'd claw back to my feet, just to slip up again.

I staggered clumsily into the clearing, standing stock still the moment I entered the opening. Stalon's den, a mouth shaped ruin, remained black and gaping though the creatures within it stirred.

My skin erupted with wave after wave of relentless chills, I could feel my mouth run dry, empty and barren. I saw Stalon's eyes before I saw him.

A great mass of brindle fur, that whipped back to face the sky before bellowing out an eerie howl. My head ached with the race of my heart, **I shouldn't have come here. **I thought anxiously, wanting desperately to turn my back on him, though I didn't dare.

Stalon was capable of many things when he was this way, I was sure he wouldn't hurt me – when he was human. Responding yowls shrieked throughout the trees, shaking the leaves above me with their force.

His eyes were white, soaking in the night lights and creating their own. I held my breath as he enclosed me, black lips curling to reveal glittering jaws. A rumble, that, for a brief moment, I believed to be thunder unfurled inside his chest, hissing through his teeth to spew silvery spools of saliva.

**He isn't a monster, **I told myself. **He's the same guy just...**_**bigger**_**...and **_**furrier**_**. **Biting my lip I made myself walk, feeling as though I would soon pace off the edge of the world. My toes curled in the grass, the smooth blades tickling the pads of my feet. God, I want to be sick!

"Hey." My voice trembled horrendously, it had become a brittle sound that scratched the roof of my mouth with every syllable. "I'm guessing you still don't remember me."

Stalon's chest filled out, his head rising far above mine. His shoulders became like rocks, broad and stocky though they carried him with such ease. His nostrils flared. By the way his eyes narrowed and fixated on me, over and over again, I wondered if he had recollection of anything.

I stuck my hand out in front of me, wincing slightly when Stalon reeled back at my sudden motion. A snort of protest rose up in his throat, his eyes becoming even more suspecting. Stalon paused no more than a meter away from me, a gap that seemed so vast between us it made my skin tighten with desperation.

"Why did you run from me before?" I asked, making the question more of a demand than was necessary. "I just want _you_ back. Can't you remember something..._anything_," I bit my lip as I watched my fingers quiver in the cold night's air.

I continued to stagger forward, ignorant of his cautionary snaps. My palm touched the icy wet of his nose, Stalon recoiled instantaneously at the sensation and sneezed sharply. My fingers continued to journey through the fine hairs along his muzzle, and down to the rough tissue at the corner of his mouth.

The night light caught the gleam slathered over Stalon's dark lips, black lips that curled upward the closer I came to him. But I wouldn't leave, hell, I could barely remember how to wiggle my toes.

"I'm sorry that I did this to you," I sighed. "I should have just left things alone." Stalon's white eyes glimmered, watching me with such an intensity I found it hard to speak.

It was a fight to tell him everything. My nightmare, Gabriel's ring, how everyone missed him. And I went on to explain everything, from start to finish, hoping that it would somehow make him remember. From the stupid horoscopes Rachel read to me all that time ago, to the night he first brought me here. I told him how much he meant to me, how much he had always meant to me.

Stalon stiffened. I hesitantly pivoted to gaze around the clearing, at the cloaked figures in the darkness, the pairs of luminous eyes. Wolves gaped at us, circling the tree line – never entering the grounds.

Stalon jerked back suddenly, coughing out a great yelp as he fell to his side. The ground shook with the impact of his fall, his body convulsing as he writhed on the grass. I stumbled back, gawping wide-eyed as his body caved in on itself.

His paws clawed at his face, he bit at his own fur. The wolves in the trees whimpered and yowled, causing my own whine to stir in my chest. Stalon's grunting and groaning, gradually became terrifying screams that had me dropping to my knees out of horror.

My eyelids refused to shut despite my every plea. I watched his body literally coming apart, ripping and tearing until all that was left was a heap of glistening flesh.

I crawled forward, driven by the shock of the situation. My hands moved over the twitching muscles in his shoulders, across his side where his ribcage popped and twisted in agonizing adjustments. Curling my fingers in the white mop of his hair I felt my eyes begin to sear and water.

"Stalon!" To me it was a shriek that made my ears pop, in reality, my voice was nothing more than a soundless breath. I rolled him over, palms slipping on the sweat that sheathed his body. He shivered in the grass, his back arching him up at terrible angles.

He didn't say a word, just peeked up at me. But it wasn't with recognition or surprise or even happiness.

Stalon looked up to me with absolute fear.

"You did it!" Kimi gasped, making the statement sound almost like a question.

Stalon clung to me, hobbling along as I hauled him inside. He whined at the sudden warmth inside the sunroom. I touched his face, his very, _very_ human face.

He gazed around speedily, ducking out of my grasp to snatch the doorframe. His actions were so fast I actually thought I imagined it. Cheyenne moved forward, pushing me aside gently to wrap her arms around him, Stalon gave a gravely cry as he dug his nails into the wood.

"You're okay," Cheyenne murmured holding him when he collapsed to the floor. I instantly got the notion that she had been in this position many times before. She pet his hair softly, attempting to coax him off the floor.

Stalon fought her, until Cheyenne herself was seated on the floor before us, cradling him against her. An almost burning sense made me peer over my shoulder at Kimi, who's eyes bore into me with this unrelenting ferocity.

"Wh-wh-what's happening to him?" I stammered, clutching the edge of a table to stabilize myself. Cheyenne glanced at me for a fleeting moment, still trying to sooth her son.

She exhaled heavily, "It's going to take a while for him to...readjust. This is the last place he wants to be, of course. It's always been traumatic for him, being there and returning to this life – I'm still not sure how you got him to come back." Cheyenne spoke in a sweet, quiet tone although the nervousness was displayed clearly in her eyes.

All I could think of were the scars that already covered her body.

Stalon's nails slowly retracted from the doorframe, his body noticeably relaxing. His eyes remained wide and inhuman, this convinced me that he was back...physically. Wherever Stalon's mind was now, it was not a happy place.

Cheyenne began to lift up from the ground, taking him with her. She managed to raise him ever so slightly before he snapped again, jerking out of her grasp and snarling through his teeth.

Holding my breath I gave a final look at Kimi, padding over to where he lay crumpled on the floor. I manoeuvred around Cheyenne, squatting to Stalon's level though I avoided making eye contact. Leaning forward slowly, I folded my fingers around his wrists, bringing them away from the destroyed frame.

"He can't hurt you Stalon, I promise." Only now did I seek his gaze, discovering his colossal pupils and distorted irises. Bringing my hand up I touched the rumpled flesh at the corner of his mouth.

In a split second, he bared his teeth and bit my hand, stopping just short of breaking my skin. Cheyenne gasped and I closed my eyes instinctively, gnashing my teeth together against the force of his jaws.

"Please," I whimpered. "Don't."

Stalon's hands fit around my wrists with ease, his claws stabbing into the tender skin. Opening my eyes slowly, I waited while he turned my hand about, finally putting the cold, sweaty tip of his nose to my palm and inhaling slowly.

"Har-" My name on his lips began as a rough whisper, like he couldn't remember how to talk. However, the rest of my name was torn off by a violent snarl, that has his naked body in tremors.

Only now did Kimi move at all, shoving both me and Cheyenne out of the way and snatching Stalon up off the ground. Her hands under his arms as she hauled him back outside, he took a swift snap at her arm, drawing blood without difficulty. Then, suddenly he fell from her arms, jerking up off the grass and shuddering on the lawn.

Groans became growls just as quickly as they became groans again. Cheyenne stood across from me, hand over her mouth as seventeen years of horrid memories flashed before her eyes.

This was the first time I actually saw Stalon. In the sense that he wasn't human, he wasn't a wolf. I'd seen him change so many times before, and yet, I hadn't ever actually _seen_ the shift.

It was a brutal mangle of bones, the gut wrenching, sloppy sound of flesh literally ripping apart and, lastly, the evident sound of a person screaming in absolute torture.

My stomach jumped and I almost didn't make it outside in time. In an instant, I saw everything I'd eaten today, which wasn't much now that I looked. My throat was brittle and sore, mimicking the terrible gleam on Stalon's skin.

What terrified me, was that these relentless shrieks, gradually became words. Unintelligible words which soon turned to curses, and then names. Cheyenne broke into sobs that, even though I periodically glanced at her, I could not hear. All that rung in my ears were Stalon's coarse cries, cries of my name.

Kimi was glaring at me when I sat by him, swallowing over the harsh taste of puke. I ran my fingers over Stalon's skin, across his shoulders that popped and snapped, feeling the sharp fur that pushed from his pores.

Stalon rolled to his stomach, clutching at the grass and heaving up off of it all at once. He clenched his teeth, causing the sharp shouting to wean off to grumbled moans. His eyes remained open, wide, wide open. His pupils grew to consume the irises around them, then shrunk to almost nothing.

With one final jerk off the ground he lay flat on the ground, face pressed into the curving blades of grass, breaths coming heavily. I ran my palm down his back, trying my hardest not to stare or flinch whenever his spine would jolt up or snap beneath his skin.

"Harley." Stalon murmured, I lifted my hand which I now realized was trembling almost as much as Stalon was, and curled my fingers in his hair. "It hurts so bad." His voice was a whine, something that I would barely call human. "I'm losing it."

"Just relax." My voice shook when I spoke, I couldn't even think of what relaxing felt like right now – how did I expect him to _do_ it? "Breathe, Stalon, just listen to me okay?"

He nodded so slightly I wondered if I'd just imagined he had done it at all. Stalon ducked his face further into the lawn, groaning out as a serious of even more violent tremors took him whole.

A harsh hand pulled me aside, shoving me into the grass. Kimi loomed over her nephew, I caught the shimmer of something in her hand and was stunned to see the syringe I'd pushed at Beck, now buried deep in Stalon's skin.

Before I could reach out, she was already plunging the gluey, lavender coloured poison into his rippling shoulder. Kimi gradually extracted the length of the thin, silvery needle, resting her hands on her knees and exhaling.

Stalon blew out heavily, his fists of grass slowly loosening while he closed his eyes. In one fluent, almost current-like motion, every muscle in his body seemed to pulse one last time before finally coming to rest.

"I'll...I'll get him something to wear." Cheyenne stammered, I could hear the tears in her voice still, though she'd already retreated to the house when I turned to face her.

Gazing hesitantly up at Kimi, I regretted so much as considering looking to her for help. She glared at me as if she half expected to burn holes into my head, I gulped loudly, cringing when she snapped, "You happy now?"

I couldn't remember how to speak, how to do anything, so instead I turned away from her. When at last, Stalon moved again, it was to gaze up at me. In that moment, I realized, he didn't remember anything at all.

In the days that followed, I came to see Stalon as often as I could without having to skip school or make Dad anymore suspicious than he already was.

Some days he remembered me, others he didn't. Some days I came over just to find that he'd bombarded himself in the bathroom. Other days he slept for hours on end, but never in his bed – he curled in a corner of his room, locked around himself in a ball. Some days he actually talked, told us how he was feeling, what he wanted for dinner, how much he recalled of his human life.

Most days we found him outside, staring into the trees as if there was something out there he couldn't decipher. Those times it was a battle to bring him back indoors. He was much stronger than we were, which didn't make things any simpler.

When I saw him, I never knew what to expect – there was nothing I could do to prepare myself. I tried as hard as I could to make myself see him as he was before, as someone I really, really loved.

But he wasn't that anymore, and I wondered if he'd ever be.

So, again, I ruined everything. For everyone.

"Hey." I murmured, joining a very stiff Cheyenne in the kitchen. She pressed herself against the counter top, clutching a white coffee mug in her hands as if it would vanish at any given second.

She smiled a false smile at me and nodded. Kimi's voice came from the dining room, and I trudged in there exhaustedly, silently pondering which Stalon I would discover today.

He sat in the chair he had when Octavian and Leander were here. Stalon was pale, wearing a beige shirt that hugged his ever muscular form.

His hair had grown out a lot, hanging around his jaw and in his eyes, the bronze locks of his youth seeming to conquer the bleached white I was used to. Stalon stared distractedly at his hands, at the black claws that extended from his fingertips.

Stalon's eyes shot up to watch me as I came around the long table. He flinched when I sat beside him, across from Kimi who continued to glower at me as she had the night he changed back.

"Hi." I whispered, watching him as he watched me, examining the motion of my lips as if he had never known them before. His eyes had yet returned to their natural form, and his pupils seemed eerie to me now, like black pits leading to the nothingness inside of him.

He blinked slowly, clenching his teeth and furrowing his brow. Stalon tensed dropping his palms to clutch at the wood table, he held his lips together for an excruciatingly long while.

"Hello." Stalon said firmly, like a child speaking their first words. He was surprised by the sound of his voice for a moment, eyes flickering around in search of the source for a minute.

I was focused on the points of his teeth as he peered around the large room, lips parted enough to see his teeth. Frowning I slouched over myself and leaned back into the chair.

Nothing was working the way I planned.

All I wanted was for him to come back, to help me with Rachel, with Gabriel. I needed Stalon, the _real_ Stalon. Not this..._vegetable_. It's selfish, I know, but after everything we'd been through...I was hoping there was some form of _bright side_.

"Very good." Kimi smiled a plastic smile that reminded me of a doll. She reached out to pat his shoulder, but Stalon jumped in his chair, baring his teeth and growling low in his chest. Kimi withdrew her hand slowly, palm up in surrender.

I stared back at her when she turned her ugly head and glared at me.

"I'm sorry." Stalon's voice was hard, deliberate. Kimi opened her mouth to respond to him when she realized he was speaking to me. I met his eyes lethargically, feeling sick to my stomach just by looking at him.

I felt lost, empty. Like when Mom left, she just..._left_. And now Stalon was gone too.

He held his jaw tightly for a second, knitting his eyebrows together. "I'm sorry," Stalon repeated as if he expected a response from me.

Shaking my head, I attempted a smile which felt dull and stupid on my face, before giving up entirely. "It's okay," I breathed, "It's not your fault."

He nodded as if he agreed with me, though the frustration lingered in his eyes. "I love you," Stalon grunted, "Is that what you want me to say?"

I just shook my head, suddenly tired for some reason. "It's...it's not the same anymore, Stalon, it's just..." I shook my head once more, unable to think of anything else to say. With a sigh I pushed back in my chair, staring at the glossy wood table for a second longer before glancing at Kimi. "Let me know if he comes up with anything else."

She didn't answer.

Pivoting on the balls of my feet, I leaned over the table, pursing my lips to kiss Stalon's forehead, like I did every day. Today was one of the few days he didn't recoil or hiss at me. This I was thankful for, because I didn't think I'd be coming back here anymore. I just couldn't, knowing he would never really be there.

Stalon wasn't in a good place right now, mentally of course, but still, it wasn't...good. He was just there, not because he had any other choice, but because he had nowhere else to be physically. He could turn back into a wolf the next full moon, but I didn't think it would change anything.

And it was all my fault.

I gave Cheyenne a half-hearted hug on my way out, knowing full well that she understood. The wind outside hit with enough force to make me squint, I paced across the vast front yard to the yellow bike that awaited me.

It was my Mom's old bike, probably the one thing of hers she forgot to take with her.

Collecting it up off the grass, I paused at the familiar feel of a tingling nose and a headache. It wasn't the first time I biked home in tears, it was difficult to see Stalon like that, I'd come to accept that.

What I wasn't used to, was leaving him behind like this. Being the one that walked away – willingly walking away.

Dragging my bike across the lawn, I swung my leg over the bar, positioning myself comfortably on the seat as I started peddling. The wind struck my face, seeped through my sweater, my distressed jeans.

It was gunna be a crappy ride home.

* * *

Were you guys expecting him to chase after her? ahahah I hope so :P yeah, I'm a huge jerk, but don't worry things will look up for Harley...maybe ;)

~Selene


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

Wow this was fun, I actually missed this story so much when I read it again. I don't know why I stopped anyways, it's FINALLY here after how long? A year? Yikes! Oh well, I hope it lives up to expectaions, I hope to continue this story to an ending, so I will try to keep updating :)

~Selene

* * *

I woke up that night to shouting.

I practically floated to Elliot's room, I was running so fast. He was sound asleep when I opened the door – sprawled half on the bed and half on the floor. I squinted around his room: toys, clothes, plates and cups littered the floor.

And the shrieking continued.

Stealthily I crept out of my brother's room, hopping down the stairs and into the kitchen, I struggled to get by Jack – guarding the back door as he was. He knew what was out there, but he couldn't stop me.

Jack yelped when I pushed him away with my legs. Tearing at the lock on the backdoor, I snaked outside before he could sound the alarm.

The grass crunched under my feet, the thin blades so cold they felt sharp. I stopped running, staring blankly at the black arms of trees, inside which something was snarling.

My heart lurched into my throat. I knew he was there without truly looking – I was terrified. But I _needed_ to see him for myself.

Before I could take another step, Stalon came rolling out of the bushes, scraping across the grass. His body was pale, like glimmering snow under the sun, the shreds of grey track pants hanging around his hips. Stalon fisted the grass, throwing his head back to let loose an infuriated scream. Before I could breathe a word, my throat clench up until I was difficult to breathe.

For a moment, I actually thought about leaving him there. That it would be so much better to let him change, to go back to what he needed to be. This was I could stop myself entirely from getting involved in non-human events.

If it wasn't Stalon, Stalon who couldn't even remember my name, who didn't have a clue how I impacted his life, I think I might have.

"You're okay," I palmed his shoulders, thinking that somehow it would stop him from thrashing. Stalon grasped my forearms, his nails scraping into my skin.

The muscle under my hands started to stretch and twist, Stalon's fleshed burned me like his blood was literally boiling. "No, no!" He shoved me off as he sat up, "Get inside! He can't get inside!"

Stalon fell over, pushing his ribcage in while it resiliently popped and pushed out. I was so scared. Was Beck in the trees? I was paralyzed. Waiting for the gleaming eyes, the disturbingly long fingers dragged across the grass.

My heart raced, the cold pinched mercilessly at the tips of my fingers, toes and nibbled at the tops of my ears. I held my breath deep inside my chest. My human eyes flickered about the shadows, unable to see anything beyond the ordinary.

But something most certainly unordinary was there.

It barrelled through the tall shrubbery far across the yard and over the stretch of land that separated us from the neighbours. Though this monster ran on four legs rather than two...

Stalon kicked to his feet, there was a shrill crack as his teeth snapped together. His shoulder speared me in the stomach, knocking the breath I'd been holding from my chest in one movement. For the briefest of moments, I was totally and wholeheartedly content in being slung over his shoulder.

I closed my eyes as Stalon ran, listening to the rapid pounding of his heart. The sound of his breaths, quick and deep. The rough rustling of the forest beneath his footfalls.

A sharp, angry sound rumbled within him, shuddering its way out to my ears in a low growl. When I next opened my eyes, he was launching me away, clawing away at his flesh to break into the ruff of a wolf.

I coughed huskily, landing flat on my back. The ground was hard, unyielding breaking not my fall but the beat of my heart. Pain rattled down my spine, shaking my ribs unrelentingly. I struggled to sit upward, disorientated in the darkness.

With jaws that were still falling into place, he charged forward to meet the other wolf. Colliding in a series of snarls and yowls, they tumbled through the trees. We were not so far gone that I could not see the lights within my home, and that of the subdivision come on.

Too soon, my Father was sprinting out back cradling something long and shiny in his arms. He raised my grandfather's rifle to his eye...

There was an ear splitting crack through the night, before one of the wolves – that had become no more than a black blob in the shadow – yelped.

The second indistinguishable figure stole farther into the trees, towards safety. Though it was wounded the other wolf staggered to it's feet and gave chase.

Staggering to my feet I began a sprint. Someone locked their arms around my waist and wrenched me back, the lights of the house becoming brighter and brighter. I thrashed in the person's arms, clawing until I was free and fell backwards onto my rear.

Clayton Mudd stood over me with his younger brother, Alec, and their father. The trio squinted down at me, demanding to know if I was okay. Their voices were much less than soothing at the time.

Dad was upon me in an instant, hoisting me to my feet and giving me a solid shake. "Where the hell were you going? You could have been _killed_!" He shouted, attracting even more attention to me.

Another man, Mr. Black, came rushing around the side of our house, also carrying a rifle. Behind him was his wife, holding a flashlight in her hand and a sour, furious expression on her face.

"Where did it go Emerrett?" Mr. Black asked, his voice unbearably calm, though the expression on his face voiced other emotions.

Only then did it don on me that the event that had seemed so long, had really been and outbreak that only lasted a few minutes.

I couldn't keep my head on my shoulders for another minute!

He'd shot one – but which one? Stalon had been there, he'd been human and in pain. He remembered who I was for Christ's sake – and my Father had just fired a rifle at him!

"What were _you_ thinking?" I shouted, "You could have killed him!" I shoved my Dad back. His shocked expression made me realize I had done something terribly wrong.

"Harley," Clayton said, his voice smooth and deep. I looked at him hysterically, desperate to ditch this crowd so I could find Stalon. "It was The Thing, that's been killing people all month, we _have_ to shoot it."

I stared at him for the longest while. Stalon had been right where Clayton was currently standing. I had him, really him – and they had taken him from me again.

"The most important thing is that you're okay," Mr. Mudd sighed exasperatedly. He reached out to rub my arm though his eyes raked over the tree line, waiting for a creature to make another outburst.

Mr and Mrs. Black huffed sharply, evidently displeased with the group's empty-handedness.

"We need to kill that damn beast before it hurts anyone else." Mrs. Black hissed, glaring at me with disgust as she spoke. I felt sympathy in my gut for their loss, but it didn't change anything – if Stalon was out there, he was bleeding. He was dying.

Swallowing my anxiety, I did the only thing I could think of.

"Ow!" I shrieked, throwing my head back and falling dramatically to the lawn. "My leg! I think it bit me!" I forced tears, biting into the tissue of my tongue as I sobbed falsely.

If I could distract them, just for a bit, the wolves could get away. Get to where it was safe.

Dad dropped immediately, beginning to tug at my pant leg to get to my nonexistent wound. I cried louder, "No, don't! It hurts – _it hurts_!"

Clayton was prepared for anything, scooping me up off the ground and marching towards my house. Mr. Mudd shooed away the rest of the neighbourhood, calling for his other son, while my Father followed right on Clayton's heels.

They set me on the counter in the kitchen, I noticed now that I had great big grass stains on my pyjamas. Dad began rolling my pant leg up, Clayton watching observantly while Jack wheeled around distraughtly. Alec and Mr. Mudd joined us shortly, only to be disappointed by my lack of injury.

"Nothing." My father murmured, exhaling with relief. He looked to me and kissed my face exuberantly, "You're fine!"

"Don't worry Emerrett," Mr. Mudd nodded as he and his sons exited through the back door. "There's a party heading out to search for this Thing. It's won't get away this time."

My jaw hit the floor. I needed to call Cheyenne and Kimi – they had to get to Stalon before anyone else did.

"Alright." Dad was saying, brushing his hair back with his fingers, he patted my cheek. "I'm coming with you then." He gazed firmly at me, turning to Mr. Mudd, Alec and Clayton who waited just outside the door.

The night shadowed their faces in black, Clayton with his Father's rifle slung over his shoulder, Alec clutching his flashlight in an iron grip. An icy sensation cascaded down my back, the burning ache of fear twisted my stomach into knots. They looked more like monsters than Stalon ever could.

Too quickly my Father pulled on a heavy coat, snatched up a large flashlight and was headed out with a rifle.

"But Dad-" I began, only to be shut down.

"It's okay Harley," Clayton promised with a wink, "You're safe in here." With that they closed the back door, Jack following at my Father's side.

My mind reeled, thousands of panicked thoughts racing through my head all at once. After a few slow, deep inhales, I pushed myself up off the counter, running out into the front hall to jam on my shoes.

Someone cleared their throat.

I glanced up the stairs at Maria, my sister and Elliott. She held her arms firmly over her chest, glaring suspiciously at me when she asked, "Where do you think you're going? I think you've had enough excitement for one evening, Harley."

Rolling my eyes at her I jerked the front door open, hurrying down the driveway before they could catch up with me. I didn't have time for Maria's stupidity right now.

My lungs hurt, my back hurt. The pain was there, yet I felt electrified, my skin crawled with exhilaration. There was so much going on the thoughts whirled restlessly in my head.

I lunged into the trees halfway down the block, slapping branches and leaves out of my face. Pelting through the forestry, I moved as fast as my body would allow.

Distantly I heard men calling to each other, there was a faint crack of another gun...

My eyes burned as I thought of Stalon, padding through the bracken, hunted like an animal.

I didn't stop until I was good and lost, not breaking to look around before I was off in another direction. A branch scraped across my cheek and I paused to touch the light abrasion, realizing now how desperate my breathing had become.

Lurching and gasping, I strode through the night, unable to see more than a few feet ahead of me as I went. I swung my arm about the air to bat away probing tree fingers, ducking and squirming when I came across something I couldn't run from.

Far, far ahead of me, I saw a white lump.

It moved faintly, though I had to squeeze my eyes half shut to keep my gaze focused on it.

Slowly, I came within reach of the lump, which became a body as i neared it. Kneeling, I rolled the fleshy mass over, terrified of the face I would find.

It was a boy.

Not Stalon.

But a boy. One that breathed shallowly, holding his palm over his throat. His eyes were green, but they were not the eyes of a human. His eyes were like Stalon's, Post-Therian, the _In Between. _His pupils were large, all-seeing eyes that locked on my face with a possessiveness that made my skin crawl.

I gasped when his hands clamped down on my wrists, gripping me with such a force I thought he would break my arms right off. But he choked violently, and when he lurched I noticed the scratches and lacerations all over his lithe body.

There on his neck, was the cause of all his jerking.

A great ugly bite imbedded itself in the side of his throat, torn skin hanging from around the opening, which belched blood and flashed muscle.

"Ah!" I whimpered, yanking free of his grasp. My free hand clapped over my mouth as the boy coughed up blood, I watched as the dark liquid spilled down his chin and across his cheeks, into the shag of his yellow hair, tainting it an awful orange.

Another gunshot had me on my feet, jumping over the dying boy and sprinting into the nothingness.

I was terrified of what lurked deep in the heart of these trees, what hid behind the secrets each bushel held.

"Harley!"

I nearly leapt fifty feet off the ground when something grasped my ankle. Holding my hands over my mouth, I screamed loudly into my palms as I spun to face a naked Stalon.

He was pressed up against a boulder, his glistening body shivering in the cold. I twisted from his hand, tumbling onto my knees as I enclosed him. His hair clung to his face, his neck. His eyes, one blue, one brown, watched me drowsily. Stalon exhaled and inhaled choppily, keeping his right hand on the left side of his ribcage.

Between his fingers I saw blood. Coagulated and steaming and crimson, it caked beneath his trembling hand.

"He shot you!" My voice was raspy though in my ears it was a belting shriek. "Oh God Stalon, I'm so sorry!" Numb tears rolled listlessly down my skin as I grasped his face between my palms.

Stalon chuckled, it was a comfortingly lethargic sound. "It's not the first time," He sighed, cringing wholeheartedly as he pressed his body harder against the moss covered boulder.

Shadow masked a portion of his face, though the other half shone with sweat. I could see his blue eye, the one that always held thrashing waves, turn to a stone-like ice in it's ferocity.

"He touched you," Stalon growled, baring jagged teeth. I didn't hide my confusion. The boy I had left to die came to mind. I nodded a fraction, feeling the guilt become weighty on my shoulders.

Sucking in a shaky breath I shook my head. "We don't have time for this, are you okay? Is it deep?" He nodded. "Can you move?" Another nod, slower this time.

I ducked under Stalon's arm, heaving him as much as I could to his feet, though he swore and groaned the entire time. Blood seeped out from between his fingers at an alarming rate, staining my clothes and spilling down his side.

"You remember me." I whispered once we were well on our way, cautiously moving through the forest. Stalon stopped every once in a while so he could listen for hunters, they were going the wrong way thankfully.

He wheezed, clearing his throat before he answered. "I remember you," He nodded, "How you smell, how you taste." He coughed ruggedly, stumbling into my side. "It took me a long time to get back."

Stalon grit his teeth together in an abrupt spurt of anger, his single blue eye locking onto me from beneath his sweaty locks. "While I was gone another Therian came in. We've fought before, he isn't as strong as he's led himself to believe. This time though, he tried to move in on my territory-" He gazed down at me sharply "-_all_ my territory."

I thought of the look the boy had given me when I found him. Dominant. _Obsessive_. I wondered how long this boy had been in town, how long he'd been stalking Stalon.

By the time we reached the Piece household, Stalon collapsed onto the grass, as he wheezed shiny red spilt over his bottom lip. He growled, teeth sharpening.

Panic had me on my knees clutching at his shoulder while he crouched over himself. "Wait, Stalon, don't go!" His arm came up despite my plea, shoving me roughly onto my backside.

His breathing was hissed, eyes widening as his pupils dilated. Claws gouging into the ground, Stalon dropped his head to the grass as his naked form restlessly jerked. His shoulders popped outward jaggedly, his rasping transforming into fraught groans. I reached out for him, but it was as if there was an invisible field between him and I, a thin line that denied my fingertips access.

Before I knew it, Cheyenne had bustled out of the house, calling for Kimi who darted across the lawn with something silvery in her grasp. For an instant I believed it to be a knife.

Stalon snapped at her, lips curling upward inhumanly to make his aunt back off. Stiffly, his arms and legs cracked and popped as he forced his body over to mine. Squeezing my eyes shut I rubbed his shoulders. Here I could feel more than see the thick hairs erupting from his pores to cover his body.

Stalon ducked his head into my lap, I winced when his jaws grazed my skin through my clothes. He held a wad of my pyjama pants between his teeth. At this proximity, I could see how his ears pointed and elongated, how his forearms stretched and lengthened.

His voice was muffled by my pants, but I could hear the pain in the grunts and cries he made. Something landed in my lap, tiny but heavy. Instantaneously Stalon collapsed onto my legs, his muscles rippled furiously beneath his skin, as if he had been electrocuted.

Rolling over and onto his back, Stalon choked out a dry laugh, licking the blood off of his mouth. Cheyenne's shouting whipped me back into reality, only now did I realize how shallow my own breaths were. Reaching down I collected the crushed piece of metal curiously, it was warm with blood but sharp and rather large. My trembling fingers dropped the bullet with painful realization.

"–You know better! I told you _never_ to do that, you push yourself way too close when you do that!" Cheyenne's voice rose an octave when she began to sob, her hands ripping at her dark hair.

Kimi was expressionless. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

Stalon lay sprawled on my lap, from here I was able to see how the deep bullet hole regenerated itself. Or rather, _finished_ regenerating. It was as if Stalon had pushed it out from inside his body through his transformation. The healing appeared amateur, not like the way Stalon's other injuries mended themselves.

I gradually lifted myself up to my feet, taking Stalon with me. He still grumbled and held his side.

Once we were inside I lead Stalon to the kitchen. Cheyenne slipped away to retrieve some clothes. With a weary sigh, Kimi rest a syringe on the counter. Both Stalon and I eyed the shimmering needle sceptically, my eyes narrowed suspiciously when I gazed back at her.

"I restocked your set." Kimi murmured. "There's more in your case upstairs." She was implying the silver case of syringes I wasn't supposed to know about. Stalon sent me a fleeting glance, his eyes briefly apologetic. I was over it, over everything.

I held him closer than necessary, digging my stubby nails into his bare skin. How long would he stay this way? How long would he be able to speak in full sentences?

My hopes were rising by the second, though I tried to stifle them. I couldn't lose myself like last time. This wasn't a fairytale. I had to be realistic and accept that he might not know where the hell he was in the next hour.

"If anyone is going to stick me with anything, Harley has to do it." Stalon's voice was robotic and harsh, as if he was speaking to an enemy rather than his aunt. She had been by his side all this time, trying to help him, I couldn't understand how he could snap at her now.

Then his words sunk in.

"Like hell!" I choked, "I'm not going to do that – don't you dare ask me to do that!" My tone rose hysterically, but Stalon's expression was indifferent.

Kimi's eyes tapered. "How is your jaw? Did you rush that one as well?" She too spoke with hostility, at the mention of his jaw Stalon raised a hand to cover the jagged line that ran across his cheek.

I reached up and turned his head, my fingers running along the pale scar tissue. It was lumpy and shiny, similar to the lengthy scar on his chest. Stalon sighed, leaning into my touch.

His eyes however, remained narrowed. "I'm not a child Kimi, I know what I'm doing – I'll push myself as far as I want."

"You most certainly will not." Cheyenne's voice was curt and reprimanding. She cocked an eyebrow at Stalon when she entered the room, offering him proper clothes. Stalon rolled his eyes defiantly. I didn't understand why there was such tension between the three of them. "It's a miracle you managed to transform the way you did tonight."

Stalon snatched the clothes out of her hands. "You mean it's a miracle I'm normal? That I'm _human_?" He broke away from my grasp, limping out of the kitchen. Cheyenne cupped her face in her palms and groaned in frustration against her fingers.

Following after Stalon, I darted up the stairs. He hobbled into the bathroom, flicking the light on with his elbow. He gazed at me drowsily while I closed and locked the door, dazedly leaning against the wood.

Stalon ran the bath, his eyes appraising the steam that curled off of the water. He dumped his clothes on the tiles and stripped, sinking into the tub with a pained expression. He clutched his side and scowled.

"I'm happy you're back." I whispered, he peered at me with half-lidded, quizzical eyes. "I mean, _really_ you. It's nice that you remember me this time."

He grunted. "I know I put you through hell, Harley." Stalon sunk deeper in the water, his one arm braced on the edge of the tub while his other wrapped around his torso. "I don't know why you stayed."

I might have been angry, furious even, if I was certain that this would last. I couldn't waste time being mad at him when he could vanish tomorrow.

"Because I love you." I said, sliding down the door to sit on the floor. "Even if you're an animal, Stalon." I spoke, knowing that just a few days ago I was ready to completely give up on him. I couldn't stand to see him that way, not when I knew who he really was.

It was silent for a moment. I stared at him listlessly. His hair had grown out, it looked silly now that only the ends of his hair were bleached. It reminded me of the elementary school boys Elliott hung out with. He seemed bigger – more muscular, more chiselled. I didn't want to admit to myself that I'd been too self-absorbed and depressed to even notice how he had changed.

I gawked at the mark on his face. I had forgotten that Beck had nearly broken his jaw. It was a soft, rose petal pink against his pallid skin. Surprisingly it was only a thin scar, even if it was quite lengthy.

"You were right Harley. I shouldn't have attacked him." Stalon muttered lowly, running his palm down his face. "I should have listened. Next time–"

I threw my arms up. "No Stalon, _no_! There will be no _next time_. We'll figure out another way." He scoffed at my rebuttal, grasping the edge of the tub before he submerged himself entirely under the water.

After a minute I crawled over to the bathtub, inclining myself over the edge to look through the glassy surface down at him. Stalon gradually resurfaced, exhaling softly as he blinked the water from his eyes.

"It's weird to really appreciate these things." He smiled humourlessly. "I didn't care at all before, but I might not get this again."

I ignored that comment with the exception of a momentary grimace.

Combing my hair back with my fingers, I shook my head at him. "Why not? Why is it so hard for you to stay human?" I hadn't meant to sound so demanding however my tone came out harsh and impatient.

A glassy bead of water slithered down from Stalon's hair, curving down his forehead, down to the tip of his nose. "I can only change so much Harley, I told you, there's a limit. I surpassed my limit, that's why _they're_ making such a big deal about it." Stalon jerked his chin toward the door to indicate Cheyenne and Kimi. "I used to go between the lines, you saw that. It's harder for me now, than it has ever been before to do that without totally losing control."

"Then don't do it anymore!" My voice cracked. I hadn't realized I began crying until he stretched out his arm and cupped my face in his palm. "Stay just like this – with me."

His eyes darkened, his lips pressing together remorsefully. "I can't Tink, you saw me tonight. If I get hurt like that again I'll have to push it a little further to heal up." Stalon spoke slowly, calculating his every word as if he might regret his next breath. "My body regenerates faster when I'm stronger, so I have to change – or at least come close to it."

My face scrunched with displeasure. I wanted him to laugh and tell me he was joking. I wanted things to be normal between us, the way they had been before.

These weren't the answers I wanted. Stalon's wet fingers moved from my face to my hair, drawing me close until he could touch his nose to my forehead. "I did miss this." He confessed softly. "I missed being able to touch you."

Greedily I took advantage of our proximity. Now that I knew he wouldn't flinch away from me, I dove in for his lips. Stalon groaned, knotting his fingers in my hair.

He pulled back after a while, his pupils dilated and wild. "Wait." Stalon removed himself from me entirely, snatching up his clothes as he climbed out of the tub. He dressed in a matter of seconds, still dipping wet. The materials of his clothes were soaked through, droplets of water falling down from his hair as he moved about the bathroom.

Stalon unlatched the cord at the bottom of the tub to allow it to drain. Before I knew it, he had leaned down and lifted me up off the floor. Too impatient to unlock the door, Stalon ripped the expensive handle off and tore it open inelegantly.

I could still hear Kimi and Cheyenne conversing in the kitchen, their voices merely quiet mumbles. Stalon frowned as he paused at the top of the stairs, glaring through the walls as if he could see them.

He carried me into his room, kicking the door shut and setting me down on the mattress. His expression softened, a small smile parting is lips as he peered around the lightless room. "It smells like you in here."

I rolled my eyes, peeling off the layers of my clothing. Stalon snorted, a smug smirk on his face. "And I thought you didn't want me to force my limits." Regardless of his statement, he crawled over me on the bed.

Fighting myself to keep from blushing, I looked away embarrassedly. "Shut up, this is different." My skin crawled as the cold of his bedroom set in, I hugged Stalon closely, hoping he would stay this way forever.

I didn't care what tomorrow brought, he was here – now, and entirely mine.


End file.
